


The Swan Princess

by Gallons_of_the_Stuff, human_wreckage, RedButterfly33



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Disney - All Media Types, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Swan Lake & Related Fandoms, Tangled (2010), The Wizard Of Oz (1939)
Genre: Academy, Adventure, Children of Characters, Fairy Tale Curses, Friendship, Modern Era, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-05-14 02:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 211,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14760671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallons_of_the_Stuff/pseuds/Gallons_of_the_Stuff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/human_wreckage/pseuds/human_wreckage, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedButterfly33/pseuds/RedButterfly33
Summary: Princess Rose, only child of Odette and Siegfried, grows up sheltered and alone, thanks to a curse placed on her when she was only a week old. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, she is shipped off to Andover Academy on her Grandfather's insistence, with no idea of what to expect or how to really behave when surrounded by people her own age.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is an RP archive. Rose is written by RedButterfly33, Curly by Gallons_of_the_Stuff and Larry by human_wreckage. The other authors don't have AO3 accounts but anything not from those character's POVS is written by others.

* * *

"Now, Rose," the old King said, pressing a small square package to his granddaughter's hands. "Remember that you are a future Queen. Don't let anyone walk over you. This will help you to keep track of things and, hopefully, to sort out your thoughts."

"I know, Grandfather," Rose replied stiffly. "I will do my best to represent our Kingdom in a good light. Thank you for the gift."

Another girl would have hugged her grandfather, or at least asked what was in the package. Not Rose. The old King watched Odette and her husband, Siegfried, embrace their daughter, though she did not even blink. Once the princess was comfortably settled in the carriage, he approached the window.

"This Academy is a big opportunity for you, Rose. It's important that you learn how to rule, but it's also important that you make memories. Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."

 oOo

Rose put the last book on the shelf and sighed. This whole school thing was turning out to be a bit more exhausting than she had anticipated. She turned around and her eyes swept the dorm room again, only to rest on her bed, where the square package her grandfather had given her just before she left still laid unopened. Sliding onto the sheets, she gently peeled the wrapping paper off.

Inside was a blue leather-bound journal, with a silver swan in the middle. Blue like a lake. Rose shivered at the thought. When she flipped it open, a small note fell from between the pages. She immediately recognized her grandfather's handwriting.

_For your new memories. Make sure they are good ones._

Rose closed the journal and leaned back on the pillows. Make memories. What did that even mean? She didn't know what he wanted from her. Her grandfather had always been a bit baffling. When he visited Oloria he often brought her presents, but each time she opened one and thanked him politely, as her books on etiquette and her tutors had told her she should, he always got this strange, almost sad expression on his face. Her parents never seemed to make a big deal out of it, but her grandfather made her feel like she was failing some sort of test. Like she wasn't graceful enough, didn't say the right things, didn't hold herself with enough dignity. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she could never live up to his standards, whatever they were. Where was she going wrong?

She held up the note, and her eyes went over it again. He told her when they parted that the things worth knowing couldn't be taught. So then why did he convince her parents to send her to this school? If not learn, what did he want her to do here?

Rose sighed again and got up, walking over to the large window. She drew the curtains back and peeked outside. People were walking down below, talking and going about their day, and her gaze followed a few of them. She had never met other royals her age, but the ones she observed here were so different than what she thought they would be. They were so... relaxed. So casual. She didn't know what to think of it, had no idea how to react to such informal behavior. They broke all sorts of decorum rules and didn't even seem to worry or even care about the future that awaited them.

_That must be nice_ , Rose thought wistfully and stepped away from the window. She still had a bit of unpacking to do.


	2. Chapter 2

_Only here for a few days, and already sneaking about_. The tutting sound that accompanied the imagined commentary almost made Curly chuckle - funny how his conscience sounded  _just_  like his favorite tutor back home. She was one of those people who acted all prim and proper while secretly loving a good prank - more than once, she had covered for him. They would never talk about it, but he knew she liked his impish nature. The woman knew just how to keep a kid like him on task too - he respected her for that. Which probably explained why his conscience tended to speak in her voice.

_Not **just**  sneaking about_, he thought - unfortunately, having his conscience sound like his favorite teacher also made him want to conversate with it. Yeah, not such a good idea; that kind of crazy wasn't the kind of crazy the Corona prince wanted to be known for.

Grimacing, he mentally hushed himself (he was  _not_  crazy) and edged around the wards surrounding a particular spot in the attic - looked like someone had been up here playing with explosives; an intriguing thought, but he had a task to complete right now. Plus, they looked like some nasty wards - he didn't know a whole lot about magic, but he had been taught enough not to mess with something like that. Even with his lack of a sense of self-preservation.

Finally reaching a window that looked out on the courtyard, Curly grinned, rubbing his hands together gleefully and practically cackling - hey, no one was around to hear him be a dork, might as well take full advantage! Though, he'd probably do the exact same thing if certain other people were around... Too bad Larry and Moe had been busy. They would have enjoyed this (well, Larry would have protested in that cool voice of his, but Moe would have been all broad grins and snickers, so long as they didn't get caught).

Opening the window - it stuck and he had to give it a few hard shoves before it would move - he leaned out, not nearly as careful as he should have been, and felt his grin widen further at the sight of the unsuspecting students below. Ah, they had no idea what mischief he had planned - water ballooning the unaware was such fun.

Picking out a decent-sized projectile from his prepared selection, Curly once more leaned out the window, watery bomb in hand, and carefully selected his target. A light toss and gravity did the rest of the work - the screech that issued from the soaked young woman below was music to his ears. Grinning like the fool he was, the teen picked out another balloon and target and did it again - with luck, he'd use up all his ammunition before someone figured out where he was and got up here.

* * *

Rose had wandered the grounds aimlessly for the last half an hour, the blue journal clutched tightly in her hand. Since classes hadn't started yet, and she had more than enough navigating of social situations for the day, she just wanted to find a quiet place to write in her journal, and it struck her that there were no guards, servants or tutors in the school to look after her or tell her to stay indoors. For the first time in her life, she actually had free reign to go anywhere she wanted.

The princess looked up the staircase of the tower, and her legs seemed to take her up almost on their own. She didn't know what exactly drew her to the place - maybe it was because many of the adventure books she had read started with the main character finding some long lost treasure in an abandoned tower. But if she got caught, she would embarrass herself and her kingdom. Rose stopped. This was a forbidden zone. She shouldn't go up there. Her mind raced with the possibilities and the consequences.

Her grip on the journal tightened, and she turned around decisively. Just then, a loud, mad laughter echoed from above, making her freeze. Her gaze soared upwards again, and she hesitated once more. Then she heard other sounds. Someone was definitely already up there.

Overwhelmed by her curiosity, Rose began her climb again, taking care to step as quietly as possible. When she reached the top, she found the door of the Attic slightly ajar. Inside was one of the boys she had met at the check-in desk, the one that insisted he was a prince, but acted rather like a doofus. There was something off about him. Rose couldn't put her finger on it, but anyone this loud and open made her feel like they were hiding something.

She watched him bend down and pick up one of many water balloons at his feet, then take aim out the window. Deciding he was more than likely to throw that at her if he knew she was there, Rose tried to close the door and quietly slip away, but as she attempted do so, the hinges squeaked loudly.

* * *

Curly was half-way through his backpack full of water balloons, laughing maniacally as he watched the chaos his antics caused below, when it happened. He had been leaning further and further out the window as his targets moved to get out of range - dangerous, yes, but the teen had never had much of a care for his own safety.

At the exact moment he leaned the furthest, practically tipping himself out the window, lightly tossing his latest balloon at a guy with dreads almost out of reach, there was a sudden loud squeak from the hinges of the attic door. Curly's head whipped around, the balloon slipping through his fingers, but he was too far out the window to see who had just entered the room. He tried to shift his balance, tried to get his body back in the window and get a look at who had discovered him, but, with a sickening lurch, he realized that he was too far, and his precarious position was deteriorating further, tipping less toward the inside and more toward the outside.

Then, his eyes widening, the prince of Corona started to fall out the window, a short shout leaving him as he reached for the ledge.

* * *

Rose's breath hitched in her throat, and she saw him lose his balance and tip over the edge of the window almost in slow motion. The part of her brain that usually allowed her to think before she acted completely shut down, and she flung the door open, springing into the room. The blue journal hit the floor as she launched forward and clutched tightly at his outstretched hand. Heaving with all her strength - which admittedly wasn't all that much - she just barely managed to pull him back in.

Her heart was beating wildly from the adrenaline rush, and all she could hear was its deafening pounding.

* * *

Just as Curly realized he was a goner and started a mental litany of apologies to his parents, friends, and all the people back home who would be crushed should he die, someone grabbed his hand.

Before he realized that he could stop the professions of atonement, the person yanked him back inside, the rapid redirection making his shoulder scream in pain. That whited out his internal dialogue momentarily, but when he could think again, he didn't really care - he was alive! Possibly with a dislocated shoulder, but that he could fix himself, and already was, his hand cupping the injury automatically.

A broad grin stretched across his face as he raised his eyes to look at his savior, the name of his typical rescuer on the tip of his tongue - only to stop when he realized it wasn't Larry who had pulled him back from the edge of death (again). "Rose?" he blurted, surprise overcoming his thanks for a split second - then he was grinning again.

"Hey! Nice save. I thought I was going over for sure. Perfect timing!" No need to mention - or think about - the fact that it was probably her opening the door that had startled him into falling in the first place.

* * *

Rose stared at the grinning boy before her. Now that the rush was over, she wasn't sure what the appropriate response would be in this situation. If she were back home and he was a normal member of the court, or a visiting prince, she would have apologized for touching him without permission. But he wasn't.

Her eyes fell to the ground and she knelt down to retrieve her journal. "What... what are you doing up here? This place is forbidden, you know," she said, straightening up and looking at him again.

* * *

Hiding a wince as his shoulder popped back into place and the damaged ligaments and tendons - man, that had done a number on his rotator cuff - Curly shrugged with his good arm. "I could ask you the same question," he said, his voice a little more matter-of-fact than teasing, but with just enough of the latter to keep her from thinking he really  _was_  doing so.

"Best vantage point for water bombing the courtyard."  _Oops_ , he thought.  _That's an admission of guilt_. Then he mentally shrugged it off - she had probably seen what he was doing anyway, or else she wouldn't have seen him almost take a nose-dive out the window and saved him.

Grinning, he finally lowered his hand from his shoulder as the last of the inflammation faded. "I figure if they really don't want us up here, they would have locked the door at least." Well, maybe it  _had_ been locked when he got up here - but he didn't need to admit to that too. The princess already had a bad enough impression of him.

* * *

Water bombing. Just the phrase alone almost made Rose shudder. Water was not something she liked anywhere near her, even in the daylight. It took at least ten minutes of pep talks before she could even jump in a shower ( _never_ a bath).

Casting a quick glance at the backpack on the floor, which was still half-full of his ammunition, Rose turned to Curly again. "You were throwing these at  _people_? Why?" she asked, truly baffled. Did he enjoy making others suffer? She wasn't his first fan, but he hadn't seemed  _that_ bad before...

* * *

"Um." Uh-oh. He'd already gotten the impression that this princess was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud and didn't much care for him  _or_  his idea of fun (maybe she just didn't care for the idea of fun at all?). She wouldn't approve - definitely, most definitely  _would_ **not**  - of him just tossing water balloons at people because it was entertaining. Yeah, some of his targets seemed to have come from the pool and were already wet, but a lot were just walking by. (He could say he at least hadn't hit anyone with a book, but he doubted that would make her think any better of him.)

Wait. Why did he care what she thought? She already seemed to think him some kind of hooligan (which he was), so why not just admit what he was doing and let her judge him as she would? Yup, that was the way to go - what other people thought of you didn't matter so much as what you thought of yourself, and Curly knew he wasn't a horrible person for dropping water balloons on people's heads. "They looked hot," he said, grinning cheerfully as the answer tumbled off his tongue. "I thought I'd cool them down."

He glanced down at his bag, but after almost falling to his death, the entertainment value of this exercise had drastically decreased. No more water balloons for him today. Unless he could talk Miss Goody-Two-Shoes... hold on, she was up here too! In the "Forbidden" Attic! So maybe she wasn't such a goody-two-shoes after all?

Another grin firmly on his face, Curly leaned against the wall beside the window and crossed his arms. "What brought you up here?" he asked; he may have implied that he  _wouldn't_  ask, but now his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know.

* * *

Rose had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her face straight. His reply had almost made her  _snort_. She had never felt more unladylike in her life! That comment wasn't even that funny anyway, but there was just something about the  _way_ he said it. His eyes darted to his own backpack, and she thanked her lucky stars that her internal struggle for composure went unnoticed.

His questioning of her presence here, however, erased any thoughts of laughter and replaced them with dread. He was going to tell the teachers, and her parents would know she was somewhere she shouldn't have been, and word would get out that she was reckless and irresponsible, and they would write to her saying how dangerous that was and in how many ways she could've injured herself.

Rose looked down sadly. Her whole Kingdom depended on her well-being, and here she was, endangering herself in this half-ruined tower for no other reason than  _entertainment_. If something happened to her, Oloria would fall into civil war as nobles fought over the throne. How could she have been so careless?

"You're right," she said. "I shouldn't be here either. It was a terrible decision, born of selfish curiosity. Please, don't tell anyone you saw me here."

* * *

Aw, crap. The way she looked down when he asked the question - Curly almost thought she was going to cry! And he didn't do crying. Crying was bad. Very very bad. Especially crying girls. He could be all sorts of comforting (okay, more like get someone laughing) when someone was physically hurt, but emotion-induced tears were just... not his element.

Then she started talking - not a hint of tears in her voice, thank God! But  _what_  she said had Curly mentally backpedalling and then holding back a laugh. She thought  _he_  was going to tell on  _her_? Wow. Made him wonder how much experience she had with troublemakers. Or people. She did seem kind of stiff, like Moe used to be...

Finally, he let out a little bit of a laugh - it was kind of  _really_ funny that she thought he'd tell on her - and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I can't exactly tell on you without telling on myself, can I? And out of the two of us, who do you think they're likely to punish more: the girl who saved the idiot's life, or the idiot who was tossing water balloons at people and almost fell out the window?" Stand-offish she may be, Rose didn't seem like she lacked the intelligence to see the logic in that.

* * *

Relief washed over Rose when he said he wouldn't tell. She would've been in sooo much trouble (not that the fact she was getting away with it absolved her of any guilt). He laughed and smiled in that unnervingly inviting way again, and Rose couldn't help feeling he had some sort of ulterior motive. But his explanation made sense. He would be in trouble too, if any of the teachers got wind of this. Although, someone must've seen (or felt) those water balloons he threw before she got there and startled him, so they would still probably...

And then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She startled him.  _She almost killed him._

"I'm-I'm sorry!" she blurted out, then slapped a hand to her mouth, caught off guard by how loud that came out. "I... for startling you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I was just... "

What was happening with her today? Princesses did not 'blurt things out'.  _When they talk, they do so with dignity befitting their birth and they say precisely what they mean to, with perfect articulation._ She had heard those words so many times now, they were practically engraved on her brain.

* * *

For a second, she was eyeing him almost like he was the devil in disguise - maybe Larry was right and his mischievous nature showed in his every expression. Oh well. It wasn't like he was actually  _trying_ to hide it. Just, er, not trying to spring it on someone all at once. When they realized he was as much trouble as he was, he preferred that they already liked him - he just couldn't get away with the same things he had when he was a kid. Mischievous kids were cute - troublemaking teens, less so. Still amusing though, if his tutors and Corona's citizens were anything to go by.

But the next second, Rose was apologizing profusely, startling him almost as badly as she had when he was hanging out the window. He had barely considered it - most certainly, he didn't blame her. "No harm, no foul," he said, resisting the urge to check his shoulder again - that would just give her something else to be sorry for that she didn't need to be. "Besides, you saved me." A chuckle slipped out. "Larry'll be sorry he missed another opportunity to do it."

Feeling the need to explain that comment just a bit, he added, "I have a tendency to get into life-threatening situations. Through no fault of my own, of course. But, yeah." He laughed. "I need saving on an almost regular basis."

* * *

Rose regained her composure once again (why was this such a hard thing to do today?), and looked at him curiously. He just said he was often in mortal danger... but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Then how are you still alive?" she said. "There's no guarantee someone will always be there to save you, you know. You shouldn't be this careless. And you could have broken your neck from that fall! Aren't you at least going to tell me to be more careful? To not spy on people?"

There was another thing her tutors would have a heart attack over. She spied. That was neither noble nor appropriate. Rogers would have a fit. She couldn't understand how Curly could be so...  _blasé_ about everything. Didn't he have tutors back home? He should have been taught the same things as her, shouldn't he?

* * *

She was giving one of those looks again - like she wasn't quite sure how to take him, but thought he might be a little off in the head. That might not be a good thing. Maybe he should tone it down? She had just saved his life; being too off-putting after that seemed kind of rude.

So it was with a smaller, more 'normal' looking smile that he answered. "I usually don't do this sort of thing alone," he said. "I've got a couple of friends who come along to keep me from accidentally offing myself." Plus he could heal a lot of his own injuries, but that wasn't something he talked about much. It sounded a little nuts when you said you weren't worried about getting injured because you could just fix yourself. Bit masochistic.

Her questions about herself were a little harder to answer. "Why would I tell you something like that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side - Larry said he looked like a confused dog when he did it. "It's not my place to go around telling princesses what they should and shouldn't do." If his grin got a little too wide as he straightened, Curly didn't notice it himself. "Besides, you haven't told me I shouldn't be doing what I'm doing - seems rude to tell you off for what happened."

* * *

This boy was definitely strange. Rose couldn't help but be taken aback by his words. She expected him to scold her, because that's what everyone else did. But he wasn't like everyone else, was he? She was beginning to learn that quite quickly.

She had so many restrictions back home. She had to be prepared to rule, there was no time for fun and games, no goofing off and climbing trees (what if she falls!?) or touching animals (what if they bite her!?) or riding horses (what if it throws her!?) or even going outside in the winter (what if she catches a cold!?) or trying anything remotely dangerous, ever. Maybe that was why she did something forbidden on the very first week of being away - she never even had the opportunity for it back home.

Rose clutched the journal unwittingly. This was certainly going to be a big memory. Was that what her grandfather meant? Breaking the rules?

"I... it's your business what you do. I can't stop you, you are not my subject," she said, starting to feel a little easier about his wide grins. "Aren't you afraid of getting busted, though? When you go to forbidden places like this, I mean. What would your parents say if they knew you were throwing water balloons at people and almost fell to your death?"

* * *

Curly spread his hands, gesturing to indicate what she just said with another grin. "See? And I can't tell you what to do, because you're not  _my_  subject." Holding a hand up to the side of his mouth, he added in a stage whisper, "Though between you and me, they don't like being told what to do real often - no one likes being bossed around." He dropped his hand as he pretended to think. "Well, some people do, but not in a way we should be talking about."

Oops. Curly stifled a laugh as he realized he really shouldn't have said that last bit - it was pretty inappropriate. But maybe it would go over her head? Or she could politely ignore it. "Pretend I didn't say that, sorry." It didn't stop him from yet another smile though, one that faded at the mention of his parents.

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck and he huffed a laugh, looking away. "Well, they'd probably laugh, to be honest." Yanking his eyes back to Rose, he held his hands up like he was forstalling bad impressions of his parents for his first answer. "They'd do all the fussing and lecturing of course. Worry about me being an idiot. Tell me to be more careful. But... well, they're... light-hearted people." He actually laughed again. "I think my dad would be more freaked out than my mom, and  _he_  used to run around on roofs and stuff, back when he was a thief."

* * *

Rose stared at him in confusion. Not in a way they should be talking about? Were there multiple ways of discussing bossing around? And no one liked it? She... hadn't really thought about that before. She'd never considered following rules and doing what she was told unpleasant. Or pleasant. It was just... something she did. Because she was told to.

Rose frowned thoughtfully. She realized the paradox of that statement. But how did she feel about it?

Just as she was beginning to question her own thoughts and feelings, however, he mentioned his parents.

"Your father was a thief?" she exclaimed in surprise. "That... explains so much."

* * *

"Hey!" Curly said, feigning offense. "I don't like what you're implying!"

Only he couldn't keep it up, laughing before she could think he was  _actually_  serious. "I kind of forget that I'm not in Corona and not everyone will know the story of my mom and dad." Another smile made its way onto his face. "My dad tells it pretty well. It's the 'this is the story of how I died' line - hooks the kids every time."

Glancing out the window, Curly frowned slightly (yes, quite the unusual expression on the young man's face) and checked his watch. "I'm supposed to go meet with the dorm people to get signed up as my friend's roommate," he said, his expression slightly apologetic as he looked back to Rose. He had almost forgotten than he had an appointment set up with them.

However, before he left... there was the matter of the water balloons. It wouldn't do to go carrying around evidence of his crimes - he needed to get rid of them. Another look at Rose gave him a positively horrible idea, one that spawned a mischievous smile (Larry might have called it 'wicked' or even 'evil').

"Would you help me with this?" he asked, nodding to the bag. "Just want to dump the rest out. It's heavy and I don't want to have to carry them back down those stairs." He tried to make his smile less 'I'm a horrible prankster' and more 'Pretty please help me?' - she would be the only one who could say if he had succeeded. "We can check and make sure there's no one under the window before we dump it."

* * *

He laughed, and Rose was surprised to discover she didn't dislike the sound as much anymore.

When he asked for help in disposing of the balloons, she only threw an apprehensive look at the bag full of water. Her first thought was an immediate and resounding  ** _NO_**. But then he gave her this dopey, pleading smile, and she thought that if she let him do it on his own, he might fall off again.

Besides, technically she wouldn't  _have_ to touch the water, and the balloons couldn't just break in her hand... right? There was nothing to be afraid of. It was bright daylight. She could do this.

"... Okay," she said with a nod and after checking for people below, helped him (completely in spite of her better judgement) haul the bag up and prop it on the windowsill.

* * *

In all honesty, Curly had thought he would have to do some more convincing. He credited the fact that he didn't to a successful 'pretty please help me' smile. That, and a brief consideration that she might be worried about his safety, especially since he had mentioned he needed rescuing a lot. It didn't escape him that he had the stereotype all twisted up - being a prince who was always getting into danger and having either another prince (Larry) or a princess (now Rose) save his ass should probably have been way more embarrassing than it was - which, for Curly, was not at all.

"You are both literally and figuratively a life saver," he said, peering out the window to check for possible victims - he didn't like making a liar out of himself, so he really did make sure the coast was clear before tipping the bag and letting the leftover water balloons plummet to the ground. Unfortunately, that was about the time two guys walked out of the building below ( _There's a door down there?!_  Curly thought incredulously), right into the path of the deluge.

If it hadn't been for Rose, the Corona prince probably would have laughed - it was the kind of thing that was so unbelievable it became utterly hilarious. As it was, he glanced at her with a slightly guilty smile (even though he hadn't  _meant_  to do it, and therefore shouldn't feel guilty, he did). "Oops?"

* * *

Rose watched in horror as the balloons fell right on the heads of the two guys below. How could this happen!? She had only thrown a cursory look out the window, but she was sure the coast was clear! Talk about impossibly perfect timing. She looked sideways at Curly, and for a second the thought he might have still planned for this somehow crossed her mind, but he just sort of smiled again and said that "Oops?"

And then... she laughed.

It wasn't a loud sort of laugh, more of a soft chuckle, but she still covered her mouth to muffle the sound. She couldn't quite say why she did it, but there was just something in the way Curly said certain things or how he cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy that somehow made her initial dislike of him soften. He was still incredibly improper, and he was not acting in accordance with royal etiquette  _at all_. But maybe... that wasn't such a bad thing.

Just then, angry shouts came from below. Rose backed away from the window.

"We should go before they come up here to see who got them," she said, heading for the door. Getting caught up here was still something she very much wished to avoid.

* * *

The laugh caught Curly by surprise - for one, he hadn't expected it, but for another... it was the first time he had heard her laugh. It was... nice. Even better, it was like she'd given him permission to laugh by doing so herself - so he did. Heartily.

Maybe a little  _too_  heartily. He almost missed the angry shouts from their unintended victims, and couldn't get the breath to say anything in response to her very reasonable suggestions that they leave. All he could do was nod, breathless laughter wheezing out as he zipped the bag and slipped the strap onto his shoulder, following her out the door. Best to leave the scene of the crime as quickly as possible.

He managed to get his breath back as they made their way downstairs. "I really thought we wouldn't hit anyone," he said - his grin might have made the words seem untrue, but he couldn't seem to wipe it off his face. "But thanks for your help Rose. We should do it again sometime." Winking, he didn't give her time to respond to his face - though she could always call after him - as he turned and headed for the dorm building. "Catch ya later!"

* * *

Rose watched him go, holding the blue journal close to her chest. The warm feeling the laughter left still lingered in her chest, glowing brightly like a flame. She smiled to herself, turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.

Yes. This was definitely a good memory.


	3. Chapter 3

Dark tunnels.

Cold air.

A ghostly whisper.

Rose walked through complete darkness, yet still knew where she was going. The stone passage was old and smelled of muck and mould, and she could hear the faint sound of dripping water. It unnerved her, as water in any shape or form did, but she kept going forward, not questioning, not thinking, just moving.

The whispers grew louder, but were still intelligible. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Rose wondered if the words were even in a language she knew. She continued forward automatically, knowing with absolute certainty she had to keep going until she finally found it. What _it_ was and  _where_ it was didn't matter. She only knew she needed to get to it.

After what seemed like endless hours, Rose felt like her goal was finally approaching. How she knew this, was irrelevant. Her heart was beating like a drum, and with every step the excitement kept growing in her chest. She was so close.  _So close_. This time, she would find it for sure. It was waiting for her. Calling to her. Wanting to be found.

She stood at the edge of a big, dark chasm and knew it was there. The princess knelt down, her hand touching the cold stone floor. The image of a young woman with bright red hair, billowing in a non-existent wind, and emerald green eyes, piercing Rose's very soul, screamed for help in her head.

Rose woke up with a start.

Sitting up in her bed, she registered that she was still in her dorm. The blinds were closed, and the room was empty and dark. Rose raised a trembling hand to her forehead, realising she was swimming in cold sweat. Disgusted, she immediately reached for the towel usually draped over the bottom end of the bed and gently wiped it from her skin, before the curse could decide it was enough to transform her.

She'd had the dream again. That same nightmare that kept repeating itself for the past week. It always began and ended the same way – with her wandering a dark, cold tunnel, and then waking up from a redheaded woman screaming for help. Every night she would chase after this unreachable goal, and every night came just a little bit closer. Rose had no idea what it meant, or if indeed it meant anything. It was possible her psyche was just that weak from all the stress and the sudden change of environment.

Drawing her knees close to her chest, Rose wrapped her arms around them, wishing she was six years old again and back in Oloria, where she could have snuck up to her parents' bedroom and asked if she could sleep in their bed. Then her mother would hug her, and her father would tell her how he defeated the evil wizard Rothbart for the millionth time. Rose smiled to herself. She had heard the story many, many times, but it was sill her favourite. It made her feel like her dad was a hero, like he could take on any monster and keep her safe from any danger.

But she wasn't a child anymore. She was the future Queen, and as such, couldn't allow herself to want this. She would have to be the one to give out orders and protect others one day. It was nice to dream about someone who could help her and make her feel safe, but the truth of the matter was that she had to handle things on her own. It was childish to count on others to save her. And she had to grow up.

Rose returned the towel to its previous place and slowly laid back down, deciding it would be best if she tried to get some sleep. There was a class to get to early tomorrow.

oOo

Rose could barely keep her eyes open. She hadn't been sleeping well at all lately, and had a bit of trouble concentrating on the words in front of her. However, it was important for rulers to know as many foreign languages as possible, because visiting nobles considered it flattering when you could converse with them in their native tongue (which was why she took the class to begin with).

She opened her textbook on the page the teacher mentioned and read the chapters on the history of the languages carefully. It seemed she should concentrate on speaking Sindarin, since it was the more modern language and would be more useful in diplomacy.

Flipping the thick dictionary open, she read through the examples of common phrases in the textbook, and the pen in her hand hovered over the blank notebook page. It said that she should try translating something like a text message or her name first, start with something simple. Rose looked around the classroom for inspiration, but nothing came to mind. Then images from her nightmare flashed to the forefront of her mind, and she shivered involuntarily. The pen moved over the page.

_Ringa ná._

_I'calen-heneb adaneth lhoss vi i'dúath._

_I'elei cîr ilaurui._

* * *

Scheduling his Elvish class right after lunch might not have been the smartest idea... Curly had eaten just a bit too much, making him just a bit too full, which made him feel  _just a bit_  sleepy. And sleepy was  _definitely_  not a good thing to be when beginning to learn a new language. Or... two new languages, if he was reading this right.

He would definitely have to eat a little (or a lot) less for lunch in the future. Otherwise he was going to wind up falling asleep in his post-lunch classes. Not that he would mind for Magical Defense, but Gibberish and Elvish were subjects he was  _actually_  interested in. Gibberish because... well, who  _didn't_  want to be able to speak a language called Gibberish? Elvish he took for more political reasons - Corona dealt with elves often enough that it would be very useful for him to know it. From what he understood, Sintar Lona-Morr was one of the best at teaching it, among the other classes she taught (and he was taking).

Stifling a yawn, the prince looked around, checking to see if he had met anyone in this particular class. Not many were here yet - but he did recognize one other person, a person he knew would be in here: Rose Waltz. She, like him, seemed to be on the verge of nodding off (he really hoped Sintar Lona-Morr wouldn't be upset by their lethargy). He doubted it was for the same reason though - she really didn't seem the type to overeat. Maybe she had though. It was better not to assume. That saying about the act was very true.

Jotting down a few words (just a quick text message) in Sindarin using the phrases section of his dictionary and mouthing a couple of phrases until he had them stuck in his head, he picked up his stuff and moved to sit beside the girl. " _A, hiril vuin_ ," he said, knowing he was probably completely hopeless in terms of pronunciation - an elf would be wincing at his garbled attempt. "Um...  _Ú-bedin edhellen_ , so... how're you, Rose?" Smiling while his eyes wandered to her paper, Curly scanned her own translation, but the words were meaningless, especially in his current state of mind.

* * *

Her hand wrote the words as if on its own accord. Rose stared at them, a cold, sinking feeling weighing inside her. Why did—

Suddenly, she felt someone slide down next to her and say something in Sindarin. Rose jumped in alarm, but calmed down when she saw it was just Curly. The ball in her stomach lessened.

" _Hîr vuin_ ," she said with a nod, acknowledging his greeting. When she heard him say he couldn't speak Elvish in Elvish, a small smile made its way to her lips, and she glanced at the common phrases again. "Really? Then  _pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog_. And I'm..." She hesitated. There really would be no point in telling him about the dreams. They were only silly nightmares. Weren't they? "I am well. Thank you for asking."

* * *

Curly's quick answering grin to her initial greeting turned to a slight widening of his eyes, a tiny grimace, and then another flash of a smile when she said in Elvish that she could say what she wanted, since he couldn't understand her. "So there is a sense of humor under that perfect princess shell!" His tone of voice and expression implied the words were meant as a compliment - hopefully she would take them as such. If not... well, Curly was used to having to backpedal at times when his mouth got him in trouble. He was definitely happy she felt like she could make a joke with him. Progress!

"You're very welcome - thank you for answering!" A quick huff of a laugh escaped him at his own words, before he sighed and let his upper body slump across his books and desk. "I am sleepy. Ate too much - I knew I shouldn't have had that last helping of macaroni and cheese, but it was just so good," he complained, essentially mocking himself, and turned his head to look at Rose. "I saw you yawning a minute ago - you eat too much too?"

He had noticed the brief hesitation, but attributed it to the princess being one of those people who actually answered the question honestly, taking a quick moment to assess their state of being before stating that yes, indeed, they were well. There were times when he had to stop and think about it for a second too.

* * *

Rose's whole body stiffened when he asked about her yawning. Was it that obvious? She should really control herself better in public.

"No, I... had some trouble sleeping," she admitted. Rose was not good at lying (nor did she  _want_ to be, it was dishonourable), but she felt unnerved by the question. She didn't really want to admit how much of her thoughts the dreams were consuming. "Erm... I studied until too late, I think. Went to bed after midnight."

Both of those statements were true, so she felt less bad about deceiving him, though the bit of untruthfulness did sting.

"I'm actually rather surprised you are awake," she said lightly, in an attempt to turn his attention (and hers) in a different direction. "Knowing what I do about you, I thought you'd sleep through most of your classes."

* * *

Curly made a sympathetic noise at her explanation. "New place probably doesn't help either," he said. "First time I was away from home, I couldn't sleep a wink for the first couple of nights. Took me a couple of weeks to actually get a good night's sleep." Of course, those first couple of sleepless nights were actually because of the level of excitement in the new experience rather than anything else. Then came the difficulty of sleeping in a place that was unfamiliar - different sounds to keep him up at night. Plus the joys of friends willing to get into trouble with him. A little bit of a smile pulled the corner of his mouth up at the memory.

The change of subject worked, distracting Curly and pulling him out of his thoughts. Feigning indignation, he drew himself up from the desk, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "You misjudge me terribly, my lady! I would never sleep through class!" Relaxing into a grin, he added, "Unless it was completely boring, talking about something I already know, or something I'm not interested in."  _Like Magical Defense_ , was the sour thought that went with that statement. "However, I'm not taking any classes like that,"  _barring that evil class the FG talked me into_ , "so I doubt I'll be getting any extra sleep anytime soon."

He gave her an assessing look that was belayed by the faint smile he couldn't quite wipe off his mouth. "You strike me as the type that doesn't tolerate distractions from classmates." The smile widened. "Guess we're both a little off on our impressions?"

* * *

Hm. Curly seemed to have a bit of a flare for the theatrical. A new fact to add to the growing list of his traits in her mind.

"I  _don't_ tolerate distractions," she said, glancing back at her notebook. "If Ms. Lona-Morr was teaching I would have shushed you, but we're  _supposed_ to talk right now."

And she didn't much fancy the idea of sinking even farther into her dark thoughts, which seemed to find a way to leave their mark on anything she did lately. Luckily, if Curly was good at anything, it was being a good distraction.

Her thoughts ran back to his statement about classes, and just like that, she realised that she didn't consider any of her classes boring. Or interesting. She took them because it was what a Princess should know. Well, perhaps she had taken Interior Design out of curiosity, but she had argued with herself at the time that it would be an important skill for making foreign visitors feel welcome.

How did Curly always make her question her entire life with offhanded comments?

Rose sighed quietly. "Interest isn't as important as learning to be a good ruler," she said. "People will be relying on you one day to give them guidance. Don't you want to be worthy of their trust?"

* * *

"Ah, so I know in the future that bothering you outside of what the assignment demands is out of the question?" His tone of voice and the grin on his face implied he still probably would. At least once, just to try it. Curly didn't mind the idea of getting the occasional detention - it wasn't like his record was spotless at home either. Trouble was practically his middle name.

As for learning to be a good ruler... "Pursuing your own interests doesn't mean you're not going to be a good ruler," he said, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "My people expect me to be a good ruler, but they also expect me to..." His eyes left Rose as he waved his hand in small motions, searching for the right word, "Be real? They know that I'm a person as well as their prince and future king - they  _want_  me to be a person, not just an ideal or a figure. It's easier - better - to trust someone they can know."

The people of Corona definitely knew their prince - Curly had never been some distant figure. He learned to cook with his mother not just in the castle kitchens, but in the bakeries and restaurants in town; he helped set bones and bandage wounds when accidents happened, healing what injuries he could without overexerting himself - the time the potter's house burned down, he was there, helping rebuild (admittedly, he wasn't a lot of help beyond fetching and carrying, as he'd only been ten at the time). His people knew him, trusted him - more, they were a large part of what had shaped him into the person he was today.

Every exhausting lesson his tutors had taught him on how to run the kingdom, he had bent his will to learning - for them. Just as he took so many of his classes for his friends, Curran did much with the thought of those people back home. He would be a good king one day - but that day was a thankfully long way off.

For now, he could just be Curly.

* * *

To be real? _Real?_ What did that mean, that because she did things for the sake of being more suited to rule, Rose wasn't a real person?!

Her brows furrowed in a frown as stormy thoughts chased each other in her sleep-deprived consciousness. She didn't have a favourite food, favourite class, or even a favourite colour. She neither liked nor disliked anything; she had no hobbies or pastimes she preferred over something else. She was polite when she had to be, serious when she had to be, calm when she... had to... be.

But she was still there, wasn't she? She could still feel and think and make decisions of her own!

... Right?

"I  _am_ real," she muttered under her breath. "Just because I base my decisions around my future, that does not mean I'm not real!" Rose snapped and shot to her feet, surprising even herself. "Ms. Lona-Morr, I'm not feeling well. I must go to see the nurse."

Grabbing her bag from beneath the desk where she had left it in the beginning of class, Rose stormed out of the classroom without waiting for the teacher's answer.

* * *

"Uh..." Wait, what? Curly frantically thought back on his words as Rose stood and stormed off, trying to figure out what she was mad about. Despite the fact that she had pretty much stated what it was, the prince still didn't get it.

"What did I say?" he muttered, looking at the teacher with surprised eyes. Luckily, she didn't seem inclined to question him for Rose's sudden departure.

Turning his gaze back to the work in front of him, Curly realized Rose had forgotten her notebook. He glanced at the door, but felt it would be a bad idea to race after her right now - he would return it to her the next time they had class together. For now, he tucked it into his own bag and forced his attention to learning Elvish phrases and words, a part of his mind still trying to figure out what he had said to set Rose off.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Rose walked into the Anatomy classroom at the last minute. The teacher looked like she was about to start the lesson, and people had already taken their seats. After a quick look around, Rose spotted the back of Curly's dark hair and suddenly felt like running away. She did not want to talk to him right now.

Scanning the room quickly for available seats, Rose spotted one next to a tall brunette. The girl looked vaguely familiar, but as Rose was new to the school and mostly kept to herself, she couldn't quite remember who this person was supposed to be. The dark-haired girl smirked and looked around the classroom, and Rose got a strange, unsettling feeling in her stomach. Was it wise to sit next to this stranger? She did not look like the sort of person one should mess with...

Rose straightened her posture.  _Queens should not be intimidated easily_ , one of Rose tutors used to say.  _They hold their chin up and conduct themselves with dignity._

She approached the girl and said, "May I sit here?"

* * *

sula's attention was drawn to the approaching princess and the question of the seat that sat empty by her side.

it almost made her laugh how polite the girl was. she even said it all proper like with the 'may' instead of 'can'.

sula didn't know who the girl was or that she was even a real princess, but that was the vibe, and sula called it like she saw it.

not only a princess but OBVIOUSLY a freshman.

sula's wicked little smile didn't disappear, and now that she was focused on the girl, the Wicked sparkled in her eyes. "are you a virgin, princess?" she asked instead of giving the girl an answer.

* * *

Rose was so taken aback by the question, all she could do was stand there and blink at the other girl.

What sort of person just asks a stranger a question like that? If anyone of the court back in Oloria knew someone had spoken to her this way, they might just have a stroke. This went  _way_  beyond what was acceptable decorum, but Rose was quickly learning that many of the students here were leagues more casual than what she was used to, though no one had straight up crossed the line into impertinence before. Still, a Princess doesn't back down.

Blood rushed to her cheeks, but Rose held her back straight and her chin high.

"Do I have to be in order to sit here?" she asked, her right eyebrow arching in a question.

* * *

sula's dark, almond eyes narrowed slightly, causing her smirk to look just a tad bit more evil. obviously she was having a laugh at the girl's expense.

she did that.

she wasn't some nice, sweet, kind person who just smiled and scooted over for just anyone. you had to be a certain kind of person to sit next to her. and this wasn't ego. this was simple economics.

why waste time on breaking in a new lab partner every time the one before broke down when she could simply chuck the applicants before they took the seat.

and, of course, a little entertainment was tied in.

"does that mean you aren't a virgin, princess?" she asked wickedly. "do a little tit and fuck under the bleachers? or are you more the shades drawn, lights off with blindfolds kind of kitten?"

* * *

Rose was beginning to regret approaching this person.

She was a no-nonsense sort of girl, and was getting a little annoyed at the fact that she couldn't just sit down and get to work. The fact that she couldn't tell if the brunette was baiting her or was just naturally this rude didn't sit well with her either, and that smile of hers was a little unsettling. Was this seat really worth the headache?

"I don't see how the way I spend my leisure time is connected to the availability of the seat," Rose said, trying to ignore the urge to just turn around and leave. "You heard Dr. Pak. Sexual education is not part of the curriculum."

* * *

sula tilted her head slightly and slowly took in the girl standing before her. lingering on lips and hips, breasts and thighs, intentionally poking at the princess's insecurity and discomfort. testing how much the girl could really take.

proper things didn't last long around sula. one way or another they broke, adapted to fit her, or ran away screaming, bitching and cursing her name.

this one looked like a prep in the making.

"what do you think sexual reproduction is?" she asked, her tone clearly laughing at the girl. "does talking about sex bother you, princess?"

* * *

Rose felt extremely uncomfortable under the girl's sweeping gaze, and it took all of her willpower to keep herself from fidgeting nervously, especially when those dark eyes lingered on her chest and thighs. Her hands itched to hold the bag up protectively in front of her body, but she ordered herself sternly to keep still.

The brunette's tone was clearly mocking her now, but it was too late to turn tail and run. She had to see this through.

"It does, though I doubt you would have the tact to stop talking about it if I just asked you nicely," Rose said coldly.

* * *

sula smiled wolfishly at that. the princess thought she had a little bite.

it was cute.

but lacking in tact was never anything sula was too overly concerned about. if peeps wanted nice, they could get a bunny or go suck a nun. nice wasn't sula.

sula leaned forward, closer to the girl. "is it because you get so hot you make a mess of yourself, princess? do your panties get soaked when you think of someone's tongue in your hairy little cunny, honey? does it make you wanna touch yourself?" her voice was private, intimate, though she wasn't making any effort to hide their conversation from anyone listening in.

her tone was merely play. to tease and 'disturb' the prim little princess.

* * *

The desire to run away intensified with every word out of the girl's mouth. Rose was relatively sure her face was burning by this point, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from wincing. She'd been taught all her life the importance of keeping up appearances, and was not about to break down now.

"If that is your way of coming on to me, I feel like I should inform you that I'm not into girls, and that your pick-up technique needs work," she said evenly, keeping her expression completely straight. She had a lot of practice with that, with appearing calm and collected when on the inside she wanted to scream. "Honestly, has that ever worked on anyone?"

* * *

sula laughed this time. really laughed, without a care for the attention they were getting. some who hadn't been listening in were certainly paying attention now, and sula laughed.

laughed until tears leaked out of her eyes and her sides hurt. it wasn't overly loud or garish, but rich with true amusement.

settling slightly, the wicked grin was back when she looked at the princess. "oh princess, you don't get hit on at all, do you?" she said with amused sympathy. the poor little princess didn't have a fucking clue. had she, the girl would have known what sula was doing.

and if she did, the girl's attempt to insult sula clearly didn't work.

"so..." sula sat back with a contemplated look on her face as she once again looked the girl over, this time with a more clynical eye. "if you aren't a virgin and no one wants to fuck you then ... you lose it to a butler or something? A maid, maybe... something on the down low?"

did sula know she was being mean? hell yes. did it make her feel bad? even a little bit?

not at all.

then her face screwed up. "oh please don't tell me it was a relative... like a brother or something. that's just nasty." she leaned forward. "did you fuck your daddy, little girl?"

what?

the girl wanted to do the insult game. and fuck. if she wanted mean... sula could be very very cruel.

* * *

The girl started laughing, and Rose just stood there, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Did she find her comment funny, or did she just not understand sarcasm?

And then she mentioned her dad. Rose felt something spark in her gut, something more than discomfort or irritation. Anger.

"At least I have a daddy," she said flatly. "Is that why you're so crass? Daddy issues? Your dad barely spares you a look and that's why you shag everything that moves, is that it?"

She didn't even know why she said it. In truth, she didn't even know if the girl was that promiscuous or what her family life was like.

* * *

though sula's parents had definitely neglected her and abandoned her, leaving her to fend for and take care of herself, these facts were not ... understood by her.

she didn't FEEL neglected or abandoned, and whatever consequence of such things were either unknown and undefined social issues or she didn't think it was a problem.

basically. sula was very secure about herself.

so the daddy comment...

sula chuckled darkly. "so that's a yes? you fuck your dad." she looked the princess up and down again, an eyebrow raised, her expression a mix between being impressed and smelling nasty ass. "wow, princess, didn't figure you as a dirty kinky incestual father fucker. that's kind of fucked up, princess. you call mommy 'sister' do you?"

sula pushed out the seat and waved to it welcomingly. "please. take a seat. tell me, is the incest thing like a family tradition? well of course it is, right? wouldn't be incest if it wasn't, huh?"

* * *

Rose looked at the chair as if it were covered in something foul.

At this point, she really didn't want to sit next to this person, but it was the only available seat and turning around now meant admitting defeat. Her father had once told her that the only way someone could defeat her was if she admitted it.

So the princess ignored the last unsavoury comments and went over to the chair and sat down, holding the back of it firmly as she did so in case the girl had the bright idea to pull it from under her. Then she rummaged through her bag, taking out her pen, her back up pen and her white-out, arranging them neatly in front of her.

"Just for the sake of clarity, I am a virgin, so you might want to direct your sexual questions elsewhere if you want them answered," she said, flipping through her notebooks for the Anatomy one. "Not that I expect you to, but it couldn't hurt to—"

She froze. The Elvish notebook. It was missing.

Her eyes snapped to the back of Curly's unsuspecting head. She must've left it there yesterday when she stormed out! Did he take it? Should she go straight to Ms. Lona-Morr? She hoped the teacher had it, or that it was in the Lost and Found, because he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

Rose's eyes moved to the brunette next to her again, remembering her presence. Her back straightened a bit, and she took out the Anatomy notebook, leaving it open before her on the first blank page.

"To be honest, I'd rather concentrate on work. We don't have to work together, all I care about is good marks, so as long as you keep quiet about it, I'll put your name on any project we are given. I'm guessing a rogue such as yourself doesn't enjoy homework?"

* * *

"sitting here makes you my lab partner, which means we WILL have to work together. if you can't handle it. get the fuck out." sula replied with a shrug. all the ease and laziness in her response, though, was squashed by the slight edge to her voice and the harsh light in her eyes.

sula didn't do slackers when it was her shit suffering.

she would curse a mother fucker if they so much as tried to fuck up the shit she wanted done. in this case... sula was taking her classes, THIS class seriously. anything that countermanned that objective was getting dumped in the fucking deepfrier alive.

* * *

Rose eyed the brunette with a mix of surprise and amusement. A rogue that actually wanted to do some work? It was true that she hadn't met many of them, but they seemed like delinquents; here because their parents sent them and not because they wanted to actually learn (why did this description fit her as well?) This could have been presumptuous of her, but Rose had sort of assumed this brown-haired girl was a bit of a rebel. The kind that skipped class and just took someone else's notes.

"It's not a problem of whether _I_  can handle it. You just don't really strike me as academically inclined. Why the odd drive to get your hands dirty?"

Well, at least she managed to turn the conversation away from the sexual topic. Rose couldn't remember feeling as embarrassed as she had been the last few minutes in her entire life. She still didn't like this girl, but if they had to communicate more than absolutely necessary...

"I'm going to need your name if you really want to cooperate. I am Rose Waltz, Princess of Oloria. It's..." She hesitated. Should she say 'nice' and lie? "Look, it hasn't been very pleasant to meet you, but if we have to work together, we might as well keep it civil."

Rose held out her hand.

* * *

sula shrugged a shoulder like she wasn't surprised by the false assumptions. it was almost boring how bland and mainstream the princess's poor judgement turned out to be.

"the dull and dimwitted are usually too slow to pick up on anything relevant as to the capabilities of those around them."

it seemed this girl needed to redefine the term rebel. which sula definitely was.

rogue, sure. definitely not the cookie cutter backstabber of the preps. but any good villain, any one who wanted to remain alive in this kind of magical life, couldn't be predictable.

besides, fitting steroetypes was something more of a useful tool in her arsenal rather than who she really was.

sula turned to face the front when 'rosie' offered her hand. "unless you are taking a contract with me, i don't shake hands." she thought, for a second, she should warn the girl as to not offering hands out to others.

nah.

girl would learn things the hard way or not.

"and you have to earn my name... rosie."

* * *

The corner of Rose's mouth twitched upwards. Big words.

"If all one does is spout crass words, I have nothing else to go on when ascertaining the range of their capabilities. Though the issue lies elsewhere, since I wasn't doubting your capacity for work, just the willpower to direct it at school."

She retracted her hand when the girl mentioned contracts. "What contracts? Ah, you're one of those Faustian demons that try to take your soul in exchange for wishes," she deadpanned. "It all makes sense now." Then she scrunched up her nose in distaste of the nickname. "Don't call me that. And if you don't want to give me a name, how should I refer to you? Ms. Rogue? Harpy? Demon Succubus?"

Just then, the conversation was interrupted by Dr. Pak's icy stare, and Rose turned her attention to the board.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

There is a plant in the world called Amorphophallus Titanum. It's more commonly known as the Corpse Flower, not because it resembles a dead body, but because of the unfortunate and horrendous stench it emits when it blooms. It's a complicated flower, but one had called one of the Andover Academy greenhouses home for more than thirteen years, brought from the limestone hills of western Sumatra for cultivation and study. Its blooming patterns varied, but the plant had first taken ten years to bloom between its dormancy after being brought to Andover. It was all very academic to Larry, one of the reasons he liked the plant so much.

He could use his gift to speed the blooming cycle—he'd been tempted more than once—but ultimately it wasn't like speeding the growth of roses, and, besides that, it  _stank_ when it was open.

Lawrence was sitting on one of the tables in the greenhouse, pouring over his Speech and Debate assignment. He preferred the greenhouse to his shared dorm only when his work was particularly unpleasant. There was only so much he could do before Moe and Curly's company stole his attention. Dry reads were only tolerable for so long. With the plants keeping him company, however, and sitting off to the side of the dormant Corpse Flower, he was making headway.

* * *

Rose entered the Greenhouse at a run. It was starting to drizzle outside, and though it was daytime, she did  ** _not_** want to get wet. Casting a quick glance around, she found (to her relief) that the place seemed empty.

She found a bench to sit at and pulled out of her school bag an apple and a book she had checked out of the Library earlier -  _Jungian Dream Interpretation: A Handbook of Theory and Practice_. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the dreams were getting worse. Each night they became more and more vivid, and last night she even managed to make out a part of the whispers –  _Set me free_. She didn't know what it meant, but was almost sure it had something to do with the green-eyed woman that pleaded for help.

Rose could have read the book at the Library, of course, but she was not comfortable with people being around while she read, even if they didn't bother her. The princess was used to having the Library in Oloria all to herself, and having others in the room bugged her for some reason that she couldn't quite pin down. Her dorm was also a possibility, but lately she had started to feel a bit anxious in there by herself. So she thought that reading outside might be a good option, but the raindrops that had already started drumming on the Greenhouse roof made that impossible. For the time being, she was trapped in here.

Well, at least she was alone.

Placing the school bag at the base of the bench, Rose got more comfortable and tucked her feet under her, opening the book and taking a bite from the apple.

* * *

It took the sound of the greenhouse door opening and closing to break Larry's focus on his S&D homework. His mind snapped to the possibility of Curly coming to "rescue" him from the plants, which was distracting to say the very least. But since it took several seconds for him to pull his eyes from the pages, he missed seeing whoever it was that had come in. A side-glance out one of the windows lent a small explanation to why someone else might have stepped in; rain, just enough to be annoying, light, was falling over the grounds.

Larry set his work aside and made to see if he could peer over the plants and ascertain who was on the bench, but he couldn't tell a damn thing with all the foliage in the way. So, he put his feet to the floor and marched towards the bench.

Imagine his surprise to not find Curly, whose proclivity to jump out at him would have probably been shown forthright, but a fair-haired student eating an apple and enjoying a book. He was so dumbfounded that he made more than one noise, which would draw her attention to him right away. "Oh," he stammered, "Oh, um... Well, I—thought you—erm, I...  _Bonjour, mademoiselle."_

* * *

Hm... so basically, what the author was saying so far was that dreams are the psyche's language when communicating to the conscious mind. As such, there's no one-size-fits-all interpretation for any image in a dream, much less for the dream as a whole. This had a lot to do with Jung's Theory of Individuation, which Rose was already familiar with, which proposed that the personal and collective unconscious is brought into consciousness to be assimilated into the whole personality. This could be achieved through dreams; however, the explanation still didn't sit quite well with her. If this was her unconscious trying to tell her something, shouldn't she have at least seen a similar picture in her life? People didn't just dream of things they were wholly unfamiliar with, there had to—

Rose was so engulfed in her reading, she almost didn't notice the boy that approached her until he spoke. She jumped, dropping the apple in the process. It rolled around on the floor and bumped into his foot, while she shot up to her feet, closing the book and holding it against her chest.

" _Bonjour. Je suis désolé pour l'intrusion, je ne savais pas que quelqu'un était ici_ ," she said quickly. Her eyes darted to the door. If she could, she would turn right around and leave, but the rain made any notion of that impossible. Bright daylight or not, she couldn't get wet. She just couldn't.

* * *

" _Beaucoup d'excuses. Je ne voulais pas vous faire peur, mademoiselle_ ," Larry responded, surprised that he had startled her so much. He bent down and picked the apple up, thinking it was a shame that such a pretty apple had hit the ground; spoiled without being inedible, just not likely to be clean. If she wasn't looking, and if he was sure that it wouldn't get him in trouble, he might have tried planting it and making its seeds grow until it bore new apples. He could probably turn it into fertilizer for some other plant, though, if he held onto it long enough. " _Parlez-vous anglais?_  I assume you do, seeing your book. You're not an intrusion. I would have left you alone, actually, if I were sure that you weren't a certain trouble-maker instead of yourself. But I wasn't, so I came to investigate. My apologies. I'll leave you alone again, if you want...?"

* * *

Rose just stared as the boy bent down to retrieve the apple. Now  _he_ was definitely not a peasant. She remembered seeing him somewhere before, but her mind was so full of nightmares and other things, she couldn't recall specifics.

" _Oui_. But one should address others in their native language, if they speak it. It helps in establishing trust."

Her eyes darted to the roof, where the raindrops were still falling.

"Oh, no, you don't have to leave," she said, trying to be polite. "And you didn't frighten me; I was merely startled. I don't feel comfortable reading in the Library, you see, and I didn't think students frequented this place, so I assumed..." Wait. He thought she was someone else? Her body stiffened when it occurred to her he might have been waiting for his girlfriend. The Greenhouse seemed like a romantic enough spot to have a date. "Were you waiting for someone?"

* * *

"Spoken like someone who knows more than two languages," Larry said, backtracking a little. "French is always nice to hear someone else speak;  _merci_. As for who I was 'waiting' for, I believe it's more of a... hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck-standing-on-end, expecting the humanoid equivalent of a tornado to track you down at any moment, feeling. But I wasn't expecting or waiting on him. I came here for mostly the same reason as you: study in peace." He looked around at the greenhouse plants, not feeling like constant staring was polite in this instance. "The only students who 'frequent' this place do so because it is so unused. But... I've got Speech and Debate homework, which is tedious, and I find my best concentration in here." Because of the plants. But he wouldn't say that. Not out loud.

* * *

Rose smiled slightly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. It wasn't often that she spoke with someone so eloquent.

"I speak three languages, actually. Hopefully, after graduation I'll be fluent in six. Or rather, seven, if we count both forms of Elvish." Rose let out a barely audible sigh of relief when he explained why he was here. She hadn't intruded on a personal moment. Thank the Lord. "Speech and Debate homework? Are you a part of Ms. Wanna's class? I don't remember seeing you there."

Rose had spent some amount of time thinking about favourites since Curly had brought it up, and after a bit of consideration she had decided that she definitely enjoyed that class. It was something she never put off, and it came easily to her.

* * *

Larry's mother, the Queen, had instilled in him a love of books, and it was his bookish love that had him mentally cataloging her features in words; she was pretty in the way a quiet summer wheat field, golden, best viewed at the end of a day when the light was fading. Her features were elegant and regal in their set and shape, her eyes unafraid of looking at him, her slight smile as genuine as it was attractive. Despite all his cataloging, and romanticizing, Larry was simply using his eyes, and didn't suddenly develop "interest" because she had smiled and swept her golden hair behind her ear. (He could practically feel his father elbowing him in the ribs telling him not to "mess this up".)

"Both forms? I had no idea Curly had signed himself up for actual work..." Larry did know that Curran was smart, but his penchant for mischief and mayhem made his Stoogey friend seem brainless sometimes. The same—in a different way—could be said for him, though. "I have Monday and Wednesday classes...?" As for her not seeing him, it could have been that he'd had his nose in a book since the beginning of the semester. Multiple books, one new for each one he finished.

* * *

Curly! That's where she knew this boy from!

Her eyes widened with the sudden realisation. "We've met before," Rose blurted out. Then she immediately wanted to kick herself for how dumb that sounded. "I mean... on the check-in desk. You're a friend of Curly's. I remember now. " Her attempt of saving the situation probably could have been more graceful. "So we  _are_ in the same class," she added quickly, trying to move past that embarrassing outburst. "I actually find it very interesting. It's one of my favourites." Rose couldn't help the little bit of pride that seeped into her voice at the last words. She had a favourite class. A favourite anything. This was a first for her.

* * *

"Oh no," Larry said, fingers flexing on the apple he was holding mostly behind his back. He realized how out of place that sounded and attempted to course-correct. "What I mean—well, what I should say—is... I'm sorry we had to meet in that way. I was feeling particularly... salty, that day," he apologized, adding in a smaller more exasperated voice, " _Va savoir pourquoi_." Again, that might have sounded rude, but he had his reasons.

"I suppose an introduction is in order?" Larry said, putting forth his empty hand, "I'm Lawrence Desrosiers, but if you'd like, you can call me what everyone else does: Larry." Everyone else being mostly anyone at the school and anyone who recognized "Larry, Curly, and Moe" as the Stooges. When it came to the people who knew him through his family, his name was never protracted.

* * *

The way he said 'oh no' almost made her laugh, but she managed to hold back, only letting a smile escape her and curl up the corner of her mouth.

"Larry," she repeated with a small nod, slipping her hand in his. "My name is Rose. Rose Waltz of Oloria. What... what does that mean, you were feeling 'salty'?" She unwittingly tilted her head to the side slightly. "I haven't heard that expression before."

Rose kind of wanted to kick herself. It was probably not a good idea to demonstrate your obvious lack of knowledge on slang words so soon after meeting a new person, especially if you didn't want to embarrass yourself. Well, too late for that. He probably thought she was daft for not knowing basic words. She had a sudden urge to slap a hand to her forehead.

* * *

"Waltz of Oloria," Larry mused, his mental roladex flicking through the who's-who names and coming up with that she was a princess. He also noted that her hand wasn't saturated with nervous perspiration, which he also attributed to her being a princess. "As for that... phrase, it's one I've only heard recently. I gather it's meant to express a certain amount of humorless humor. In my case, it was that Curly can be... overt, sometimes, and I was feeling rather feisty." The last word was said with a smirk. His father's temper with his mother's intellectualism, Mrs. Potts had said with a great amount of exasperation.

* * *

This time Rose couldn't help herself, and a soft chuckle escaped her.

"I know exactly what you mean. Curly can be... a bit of a handful." She remembered the last time she saw him, and her smile faded. "Too much of a handful, sometimes." Her hand slithered out of Larry's warm grip and fell to her side. A lock of hair slipped from behind her ear and obscured her face, but she tucked it back where it was. "I... I suppose I should let you get back to studying. Again, sorry to have interrupted..."

She held the book on dreams in front of her chest again, as if once more lifting a shield.

* * *

Larry let his hand drop to his side, eyeing her book again covertly, though when it proved to be less interesting than merited a second glance, Larry ignored it. "Well, yes, I should probably go back to it," he said, though it was fairly far from what would be enjoyable. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose."

* * *

Rose smiled again. "Likewise." She looked up. Water was still drumming against the roof, and the princess knew she couldn't leave the Greenhouse itself yet. It occurred to her that just sitting a few meters away and ignoring each other would be really awkward. "It looks like the rain will continue for a while... I could help you with your homework if you want? I'm already done with that assignment." Her eyes darted to her bag, where her own Speech and Debate notebook was sandwiched between the Interior Design textbook and her Anatomy project, and the princess quickly stuffed the book on dreams inside before he could ask why she was reading it.

* * *

Larry raised his eyebrows in interest. "I would appreciate the help. Very much so," he said, shifting to aim his gesturing hand to his previous seat.

* * *

Rose swung the bag over her shoulder and walked over to the bench he indicated, then sat down, leaning over his still open book.

"Ah, I see why you find it dry," she said, pulling out her own notebook and opening it to the correct page. "You're using the textbook's examples. You don't actually have to read these specific speeches, you are allowed to use other sources." She moved the notebook closer to him so he could see how she had done it. "You can use anything, from a poem, to a song, to a speech your own parents have made, if you know it well enough." Rose hesitated for a second, but said, "I, erm... I know a few by heart, if you can't think of anything."

* * *

"Know a few of my parents' speeches or your own?" Larry said, and realized after a short lag that he had deadpanned like he would with Moe and Curly, who both knew when he was joking, and belatedly adding a smile to his joke. His eyes went over her notes in her notebook. Not knowing anything about Rose, he found it interesting to see what she considered worth noting. "I can't remember any of my mother's or father's, not off the top of my head. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate hearing one of yours?" He settled himself next to her on the bench, half-turned to continue their discussion.

* * *

For a moment, all Rose could do was stare at him blankly. "I don't know who your parents are…" she started, then registered the smile on his face and went a bit red in the face, realising that he was joking. "Ah, I mean, perhaps political speeches are a bit too uninteresting for your taste? I used passages from one of my favourite books in mine…" She shifted uncomfortably. The book in question was a children's book, but he could probably see the speech already written in her notebook. "Let's see… perhaps a poem?" Rose looked up in thought. "Ah, I have one."

She straightened her posture and recited one of her favourite poems, " _If_ —", by Rudyard Kipling.

* * *

Seeing her blush, he acted like he was very interested in the books and notes. But he also realized that while he knew she was a princess, it was unlikely that she knew just what kingdom he was the prince of.

"A poem," he responded in agreement before she started reciting. With every line, he felt like he had heard it before, and also with every line he was impressed that she knew it all by heart. When she had finished, Larry was tempted to clap. Instead, he said, "Very nice. I'll give it a try."

And he did. He used the poem as his material and worked on how it could be debated, but also how it was most effectively spoken. An hour or so later, he had the feeling that he had more than enough for his assignment. Larry let his pen drop into the book on his lap and flexed his hand, then went so far as to stretch his back. In his stretching, he realized that the rain had let up. "Well," he said, "If that's not enough to get a decent grade, I don't know what is. I had no idea coming to the Greenhouse would be so productive. Thank you, Rose." He meant every word. The dullness of his previous ideas and subsequent work had been so painfully boring that he might have just fallen asleep in the Greenhouse.

* * *

Helping Larry better his public speaking skills had been surprisingly pleasant. Rose adapted to his specific brand of dry humour as they went along, and found that she could actually carry an intelligent conversation with him. He picked up on things quickly and had a speech ready in less than a hour, so by the time they were done, the rain had finally stopped.

"No problem," she replied with a smile, standing up and taking her bag. "It was actually kind of... fun." Larry was very entertaining as a speaker in her opinion. He just spoke a certain way, and it was almost hypnotizing when he did so in measured speech. "I'll see you in class, then. I'm looking forward to your presentation."

Rose gave him one last smile, waved, and made her way to the Greenhouse door.


	6. Chapter 6

 

* * *

Moe had arrived a little early. He wasn't a fashionable anything kind of guy. Being early meant he stood around awkwardly for moments and if anyone approached him he reflexively, defensively got into his costume guise and posed. Freak he certainly was.

Cool thing for his dork side; he retrofitted a camera to his gun so he could still take pictures.

* * *

Rose walked between the trees wearily. This was probably a bad idea. Everything in this school was so strange, so... informal. She wasn't used to this.

It had been a while, and she had loosened up a little since first arriving at Andover, but she still had trouble dealing with the more... unsophisticated students. She had debated with herself for an hour and a half whether or not to go to this party, as she knew it would probably be nothing like the royal parties she had previously attended. And she was absolutely, one hundred percent  _right_.

For starters, it was in the woods. Different coloured lights shone everywhere, alcohol was being passed around like gum, and there was even a large fire pit whose flames towered up to the sky.

Rose clenched her fists. She was real, damn it! She wanted to do this, wanted to prove to herself that she was capable of making her own decisions and of doing things that were not always expected of her.

Wandering aimlessly and just observing, Rose walked close to a boy dressed as a green toy soldier and looked at him for a few seconds, letting out a small sigh of relief. She was starting to feel a little out of place with a costume so utterly non-scary, but it seemed that she wasn't the only one that had opted for creative rather than scary.

* * *

Moe saw Rose. He wasn't normally the outgoing conversation starter but he saw how awkward she was and remembered that Curly wanted him to befriend the swan princess. He didn't move right away because he was hoping Curly, or maybe even Larry, would arrive and accompany the girl instead of him. But as he looked around and waited a minute or five with no showing of green guys, Moses gulped audibly and made his move.

Though Rose was only a few feet away, it felt, to him, as if he were traversing through a heavy, lengthy trek. One that didn't last long at all. With his awkward base under his arm pit, and camera gun hanging around his shoulders, Moe stopped in all his green glory right in the butterfly princess's path. "H-h-h-i...Hi," Awkward green grip out in offering of formal introduction. "I'm-m-muh... Moe. C-curly's fr-fr-fr-friend," It was only after he said it that he remembered that Curly suggested he not tell the princess that they were friends. Shit.

* * *

Curly's friend? Rose' back stiffened. Why did she keep bumping into his friends? Was he that popular? Why did he leave a trace everywhere she went?

But... this boy seemed nothing like Curly. He wasn't bombastic and loud, and in-your-face. There was something about the way he spoke that endeared him to her; he didn't immediately make her feel uncomfortable like most people in the school. Maybe this party thing wasn't that big of a mistake.

"Hello," the princess said, fighting the urge to curtsy. "I am Rose Waltz, Princess of Oloria. It is a pleasure to meet you." She took his hand.

She tried not to sound uptight. Really she did. It just didn't work out so well.

Rose almost sighed at her own self. Some habits were going to be hard to break.

* * *

The costume was not Larry's idea. But at least he didn't have to have one on his own. It was a plus too that the three of them could be an "army" unit. Finding either Moe or Curly in the clearing wasn't easy, but once Larry had sight of army green, he knew he had found another Stooge. Circling around so that he could show up behind Moe—or beside, as it turned out—Larry slid into a crouch beside his friend, bazooka on his shoulder. He had no idea that Rose was the red butterfly in front of Moe, and his helmet kept him from really looking up to see.

* * *

Girl. Girl. Girl. He was talking to a girl. "I-I-I know... I-I mean He-he-hello." Moe was bombing this. Failing terribly. But it wasn't anything new. When it came to talking, interacting, looking, or being in the same room as a girl, Moses was a freak. "I-I... You-Your costume... Butttter-fl-fly." Idiot. "It's N-ni-nice." Moe's voice cracked at the end, as if his stutter wasn't enough of a problem.

When he noticed the green in his periphery, Moe visibly sagged in relief. "Larry!" Lacking all tact, Moses thrust a finger in Rose's face and said to his friend. "Prin-ce-cess Rose. Princess Rose," he said, by means of introduction with a simultaneous plead for mercy/help.

* * *

Rose watched Moe struggle to talk to her and gave him a smile. A real, genuine smile, not a condescending one. She didn't find his stutter cute in the way a clumsy child or a dog was cute – she sincerely liked the fact that he seemed to be this shy. Too much self-confidence tended to annoy her. It could be that a lot of the pompous visiting princes acted this way back home, but she had developed a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to confidence – the more relaxed a person was when meeting her, the more nervous it made her feel. And if by some miracle the other person was more jittery than her, it somehow made her less stressed to talk to them. Not to mention that less confident people were less likely to say tasteless jokes and act too inappropriately.

"Thank you," she said, giving his hand a light squeeze to let him know it was alright before letting go of it. "I made it myself. I like yours too. It's very... imaginative."

Then her attention was drawn to the green-clad person crouching next to Moe, who was balancing a long bazooka on his shoulder. When Moe saw him as well and anxiously introduced her to him, Rose was finally made aware of who he was and almost laughed, realizing that they had coordinated their costumes. That was so dorky, yet sweet.

"Larry?"

* * *

"Ah," Larry sounded, rising from his pose and seeing who was the red butterfly. "Rose. Happy Halloween. I'd offer you my hand, but this green gunk is likely to spread to you, too." To punctuate, he attempted to smile and barely managed to lift either side of his mouth. It was too thick. Larry turned to Moe, literally, and snapped a salute into place, greeting his friend with as much of a smile as he could, " _Mon capitaine!_  How is it? Taking pictures?" He knew Moe's limitations in social situations. He could do his best to smooth things over, do the talking for the both of them, but when it came to fun, they needed Curly to show them how to start, most of the time.

* * *

Curly really hated being late to a party, particularly one he had talked his friends into going to - but he did enjoy making an entrance. His plan for this one wound up rather in the toilet though, as when he had finally managed to make it back to the dorm (having gotten caught up researching for a paper he had to write), his friends had already dressed and left. One sigh of the word, "Damn," was all he had allowed himself before moving on to getting dressed in his costume.

The toy soldiers had actually been Moe's idea - Curly's initial ideas for group costumes being summarily shot down by Larry - and the djinn-like teen had been the one to get the materials to make them, but Curly had been the one to give the stuff "The Green Treatment". That had been fun, though he still hadn't managed to get his hands entirely free of the green dyes yet. It worked out well for the costume though - he didn't have to put as much of the make-up on them, nor did he have to wear gloves.

But back to his grand entrance. It was hard for a lone green toy soldier to make one, but when he spotted his two friends chatting up a red butterfly he instantly recognized as the princess of Oloria, the healer grinned and revised his plans. A grand entrance hardly mattered when he could just surprise his friends and Rose. Halloween was the season for it, after all.

So he crept up behind the group, hoping the dimming light would hide him until he popped up behind Larry and Moe, slinging an arm over each of his friends' shoulders. "Hello,  _mis amigos_!" he said, cheerful and not-quite-loud. "I see everyone's met everyone else. Awesome! How goes the party? Anyone see a costume more awesome than ours?"

* * *

Moe was thankful for the thick green makeup that covered the furious blush rising on his cheek. Rose had complimented his costume. A girl complimented his costume. Even if it hadn't been his idea, he would still have been red as a tomato. Girls did that to him. But Moses had Larry now.

The question about him taking pictures was a relief. Photography was one of the few things he was comfortable talking about. "Yeah. Retrofitted an M16 to shoot pictures instead of bullets." Moses raised his gun to show his friend...and Rose if she wanted to look too. "Pull the trigger and I can take a single frame. Hold it down and I can take multiple, kind of like how semi autos can shoot multiple bullets or a single."

It was as he was explaining this when Curly came. His friend's greeting made Moses smile, his white teeth peeking from the never ending green.

* * *

Rose's smile grew a little when Larry engaged Moe and his stutter disappeared as if by magic. She was grateful for Larry's arrival, if it made his friend more comfortable. When he saluted, she couldn't help it and giggled quietly into her hand. It was a really cute idea to go as a "unit".

"Wow... I would have never thought of doing that," Rose said when Moe showed them his gun, genuinely impressed. "What a clever idea." He had really gone the extra mile for this.

Then... Curly popped out of nowhere. Rose felt her stomach drop and the smile slip from her face.

"Hello, Curran," she said stiffly, her voice cold. The name felt strange on her lips. She had known his full name, but had never addressed him as such, not even in her head. Until now.

* * *

"Moe is quite clever, Rose. I have never seen someone so gifted with technology," said the bazooka-toting soldier. Talking up Moses, who he patted on the shoulder, and especially to girls, was something Larry set about to do that night. Their costumes were anonymous enough that Larry thought it would fun to act a little less stuffy and a little more like Curly, and maybe help Moe come out of his shell too. But he wouldn't push it. And there appeared, like thought summoned him, the devil himself. Well, the army green visage of him, anyhow.

Curran, Larry thought, was an odd name. And given that "Curly" was nearly the only name he ever associated—or heard—with his hyperactive friend, it took him by surprise. Lawrence was about fifty-fifty by that name and by Larry. "Are we in trouble,  _Curran_?"

* * *

Ah, so he hadn't managed to surprise his friends. Oh well. Moe was smiling, Larry was acting a little less stuffy, and Rose... well, Rose had been giving him the cold shoulder ever since that day she stormed out of Elvish. He hadn't even managed to give her back her notebook yet, he was so nonplussed by her behavior.

"Rose is mad at me," he answered Larry's question sotto voce. "I don't know why though. She won't talk to me." In an attempt to make light of the situation (or at least get someone laughing), he poked Moe in the side. "Ask her why she's mad at me. Oh, and tell her I have her Elvish notebook if she wants it back."

* * *

What did you get when you mixed green and red? Moses was certain it was a poop kind of color and dreaded that it was the exact color of his face when Larry talked him up. But it was the stiff, cold sound of Rose's voice when she said Curly's real name that dropped the smile from his face and had him shifting nervously. Oh man, this was bad. He knew this was going to be bad. Curly liked helping people but sometimes his assistance was not well recieved. Moe had no idea what his eccentric, philanthropic friend had done but from where he was standing, Moe was in the cross fire and bound to get shot or something.

His poop-colored blush (he was only assuming that was the color of his face, not the reality) intensified with Curly's poke and instruction that, with Rose standing right in front of them, she could hear just fine herself. Moses' gaze shifted from Rose, whom he could only barely look at, and the direction of his friend without really seeing. He was sort of thankful for the helmet now. At least he was semi protected from the wrath of the swan princess.

* * *

Rose could have possibly handled this with a little bit of poise.  _If_ Curly had addressed her directly. When he spoke about her like this, like she really  _wasn't_  real, it lit something inside her. The princess rarely felt extreme emotions – she was taught all her life to be contained, hold herself with dignity – but right now what she felt was pure, unadulterated anger, and it could  _ **not**  _be contained. Her hands balled into fists, clenching to stop her from shaking in anger so hard the knuckles turned white.

"Kindly do not speak about me as if I'm not even present," she said icily, coldness practically radiating from her. Eyes narrowed and sparkling dangerously, Rose gave Curly a glare so fierce it could kill. "You know what, you can keep that notebook; I don't want to be in your presence for longer than absolutely necessary! From now on, just... stay  _away_ from me."

She spun on her heel and made to leave, but remembered Larry and Moe. It wasn't their fault they were friends with such a foul git.

Rose stopped, half-turned, gave the two boys as genuine of a smile as she could manage with her insides burning, and said, in a soft a voice as she could, "It was lovely meeting you, Moe. Happy Halloween to both of you. I hope you have fun at the party."

Then she marched straight forward and down a designated path, not caring where the trail would lead her.

* * *

Curly immediately regretted his words. Immediately. He didn't know exactly what he had done, but whatever it was, it had pissed Rose off - royally. If he'd thought talking to her would make her angry, it was nothing compared to what trying to talk to her through Moe had done.

"Rose, wait—" he tried to get her to stop, but she was already storming off, leaving him feeling guilty and really, really confused. "Ah, fuck, what did I do this time?"

He looked at his two friends, emotions written on his face. "Do you guys have any idea?"

But he didn't wait for either of his best friends to answer - it already clicked in his mind that the only thing that could even possibly make this better was to apologize to Rose. That's what his dad always told him. If you made a woman mad, apologize - even if you didn't know what you'd done, saying you were sorry would at least give you an opening to find out. And if he could find out, he could make it better.

With one last pained look at Larry and Moe, Curly took off down the path Rose had taken.

* * *

Rose stomped between the trees, not even caring where she was going. She was sad, and angry, and hurt, and just wanted to be as far away from Curly as humanly possible. The contents of the bottle of  _Jack Daniels_  she had managed to swipe from the Clearing as she was walking away swashed inside the glass as she walked. She didn't know why she took it. It was a spur of the moment decision; she was walking by the table and her fingers just closed around it. She had tasted alcohol before, of course. Wine, mostly. But, she had never, ever gotten drunk.

However, the princess cared little about that now. All she could think about was that the very first person she had maybe considered a friend treated her like she wasn't even there. And that, while he probably hadn't meant to insult her, he had stated his opinion on people like her– doing things because you are told to makes you less human. It makes you less real.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but Rose refused to let them fall. Why did it matter what he thought? So what if she wasn't real to him, what of it? He was just some guy she met at school, and, as she had witnessed, he had plenty of other friends to occupy him. Just because she had started to think of him as a friend, that didn't mean he felt the same way. She was just a random person he had classes with. Someone to talk to when his real friends weren't there.

_Real. Real. Real._

Rose stopped walking, her head bowing low. Her fists clenched tighter. Her whole body shook.

A few teardrops fell at her feet.

* * *

"Rose? Rose!" Ah, man. Curly felt like an ass. He didn't even know what he'd done, but he really felt like an ass. How did he go from making the girl almost laugh, to having her so pissed at him that she stormed off into the Woods at a Halloween party?

And now he couldn't even find her! Shit. He had messed up. Really, truly, messed up. This was possibly worse than that time with the monkeys the summer they stayed with Moe in Oz. And that was kind of life and death. This was just... he'd messed up. Because girls only got this mad if you hurt them, and Curly really, really didn't want to hurt his friends. That was the worst of the worst to him - hurting your friends.

He didn't know what he'd done, but if he hurt Rose, he had to make it right. But to make it right... he had to find her. "Rose! Where are you?" But he didn't hear an answer yet.

* * *

Curly's voice penetrated the air, and Rose's whole body immediately turned to stone. She wiped her eyes, which didn't exactly hide how red they were, and her head whipped around frantically, looking for a place to hide. But there was nothing but trees, as far as the eye could see.

She decided to try anyway, and quickly ducked behind the thickest trunk she could spot. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she leaned her back against the tree and tried to brush away what was left of her tears.

However, the preoccupied princess had forgotten to take into account the wide wingspan on her costume, and the tips of her red wings still poked around the trunk.

* * *

It wasn't easy, combing through the woods looking for someone. But when that someone was wearing giant red butterfly wings? Well, that certainly made things a little easier.

Curly caught motion out of the corner of his eye just in time to whip his head around and see the quivering tips of Rose's costume on either side of a tree. Relief filled him at having found her - even if this was a school, running around in the woods after dark was rarely a good idea, even with a party going strong only a few hundred feet away.

He started toward the tree she had hidden behind, her name on the tip of his tongue, before the realization hit him - she was  _hiding_  from him. As in, she did not want him to find her. It stopped him in his tracks, his brow furrowed as he gnawed on his bottom lip, thinking. He couldn't just leave her. But if she didn't want  _him_  to find her... Moe and Larry probably weren't far behind him.

That decided him.  _They_  could be the ones to "find" Rose. But... that didn't mean he couldn't apologize. Moving closer, he turned and leaned his back against the tree she hid behind, facing away. "Rose..." he sighed. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I didn't mean it. I'm just... stupid sometimes."

* * *

Rose felt the tears returning just at the sound of his voice.

He knew she was close. He must have known, if he spoke up. Her legs gave way and she slid down the trunk until she was sitting on the ground at the base of the tree, and her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Just... leave me alone, Curly," she said sadly, and to her horror, her voice  _broke_. Rose buried her face in her knees.

Why did he even come after her? Clearly he didn't care enough to even notice what had upset her. She was just a damsel in his head, a princess that needed saving. That was why he followed. Because it was the "noble" thing to do.

Rose felt the hot tracks of tears down her cheeks again.

* * *

Curly swallowed hard at the sound of Rose's voice, feeling like he was probably the shittiest person he could ever be in that moment. It wasn't even the words themselves - he had dealt with people telling him to leave them alone before (Larry did it on a regular basis, and Moe too at times) - it was the way her voice broke. He had made her cry. Not just made her mad - he had made her  _cry_. And it made him feel like shit.

"Rose..." he said, his own voice almost agonized. "Just tell me what I did. Please? How can I make it better if I don't know what I did wrong?"

He wished he could step around the tree and look at her, but worried that if he tried, she would run again. That he could not let happen - the woods, alone, after dark, on Halloween? Yeah, no. Curly had watched way too many horror movies with his friends to let her go off by herself.

"Please, Rose. Tell me and let me try to make it up to you." Humor hadn't worked before - it had just made things worse - but Curly couldn't help injecting a bit of desperate lightness into his next words. "I can't be less of an idiot if you don't tell me how I was an idiot in the first place."

* * *

_Always be true_ , Odette told her daughter often.  _Show the ones you care about who you really are, or they might mistake you for something different._

The notes of sincerity in his voice made Rose want to be honest with him in kind. And with herself.

"You can't make it better, Curly," Rose said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Because you didn't do anything wrong. You were just... being yourself. I know I can never fault you for that. "

She nuzzled her face against her knees, spreading a few of her tears to them. That was not a fair explanation at all. She wasn't very good at this, wasn't used to talking about such things. But she owed him more than that.

"You... you just... you don't know what... what  _effect_ you have on me. You make a casual comment about something, and suddenly I find myself seeing everything in a brand new way. You make a joke, and I realise things about myself I never thought of before. I just, I've never..." She swallowed thickly. "I've never had a friend before. And I thought... I know it was silly and presumptuous of me, but you're the first person I've ever thought of as a friend." Rose took in a shaky breath. "But... you're not like me. You have friends, and you're so... open. You don't need me."

_Not like I need you_ , she thought.

"What am I to you, Curly?" Rose asked quietly. "You talk about me as if I'm not there, and you say that people who do things that are expected of them like I do aren't real. Am I real to you? Am I just a project, someone for you to help? A princess that needs saving? That is why you followed me, isn't it, because it's dangerous for a princess to be alone in the woods? Can you deny that you'd do that even for a person you didn't know?"

* * *

Curly listened, and waited, his heart sinking lower and lower until he thought it had reached his feet and threatened to drop out of him altogether. When Rose finished, her questions rattling around in his head as he tried to match answers to them, answers she would accept, he didn't hesitate. He jerked into motion, scrambling around the tree - he almost panicked when he didn't immediately see her, relief making his chest feel empty when he looked down and did. Her face was pressed to her drawn-up knees, but even then, he could see the faint gleam of wetness on her cheeks.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside her and reached for her, his hand on her shoulder before it occurred to him that she might not react kindly to physical contact. It stopped him from doing what he wanted to do - which was pull her into a hug - but he didn't remove his hand as he struggled to put his racing thoughts into words.

"I don't have to need someone to want to be their friend," he said. "I  _want_  to be your friend, Rose. I want  _you_ to be my friend. I might need you to save me from falling out a window again sometime, too." Always, always, he fell back on humor. If he could make her laugh, he could make it better. Laughter was the best medicine, after all.

"You're not just some princess - you're Rose! You're overly formal and you worry about getting in trouble and always think about doing the right thing for your country and that's just part of who you are. And don't think that's all you are, either. Of course you're real to me - and yeah, I may follow just about anyone into the woods to make sure they don't get hurt, but that's just... that's who I am. You can't make that into something to make you think less of yourself."

He tried to think of how to reassure her further, but before he could come up with something, the sound of French swearing stole his attention. "Larry?" he called. "You okay?" His friend's voice didn't really sound distressed - more impatient - but that didn't entirely reassure Curly.

* * *

Rose's entire body turned to stone when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to run away, but knew that if she looked up he's see her tears, and she just couldn't.

Then he brought up the time with the water balloons in the Attic, and she shook her head slightly, still keeping her face hidden. "But even then you thought I was Larry. I just... happened to be there by complete coincidence, I never set out to save you. I didn't even know you."

She listened as he listed things about her and about himself, and his second-to-last sentence made her smile slightly. Of course she couldn't fault him for being himself. That was what she liked about him. All this time she hadn't really been angry or upset with him; he was just being honest. The real problem... was  _her_.

"But that's just it. I've been raised to be this way, don't you see? Raised to be proper and not want to get in trouble. You were right in class, I do things because I am told to do them!" Her hands curled into fists, and she whispered, "Curly, I don't... I don't even have a favourite food. Or a favourite colour. You might not have meant it in this way, but it's true – I'm not real. I'm just a doll that does what she's told."

Then suddenly there was a rustling sound from deep within the woods, and Rose heard someone swearing. Swearing  _in_   _French_.

Her head jerked up. "Larry?" she said quietly, then stared unseeingly into the darkness, completely forgetting about her wet face and reddened eyes. "Do you think he's in trouble?" Rose added worriedly, turning to look at the boy crouching beside her.

* * *

"I hope not," Curly said, staring off in the same direction as Rose for a moment. When he looked back at her though, he winced at the sight of her red eyes and tear-streaked face. Knowing there was no way to make the gesture casual - but at least hoping he wouldn't get green dye on her face - he reached out to wipe away the wetness. "He's supposed to be the one who saves me, not the other way around."

Turning his eyes back to the woods, trying to pinpoint where Larry's voice had come from, he added worriedly. "But, um... let's go check on him and then come back to this conversation?" Because it was definitely not over. He wasn't going to let that doll comment go. However, leaving a friend alone in the woods was  _definitely_  a bad idea and a pretty big no-no on Curly's list of things he would not do.

* * *

Rose's brain shut down when he touched her face and her body froze. After a couple of very long seconds, something sparked in the back of her head and she turned away so he couldn't see her puffy, red eyes, wiping the rest away.

"Yeah," she said, standing up. "We should check up on him." The princess looked to the trees again, and momentarily forgot her troubles. She was really worried about Larry. School or not, dark Woods were not a safe place to be at night.

* * *

Suddenly, the green toy soldier costume was very bothersome, traipsing off through the woods in the way that he did, after Curly and Rose, who had left Larry and Moe in the dust. How rude of the pair of them. They couldn't just walk off to the school to discuss what they had to, no, they went into the woods, when it was dark, when Larry had no flashlight. And of course it had to be Halloween. Couldn't this have happened in the middle of the day, on some shit bank holiday? When it came to Curly having girl issues, however, it had to happen on the spookiest night of the year.

"This is how people get axe-murdered in horror movies," Larry said to himself, in a so-why-are-you-walking-alone-in-the-dark-without-a-flashlight way. Everything about the woods was giving him the chills. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. Was it just him, or did it seem like the music had been swallowed up by the darkness?

Larry, quite unexpectedly, found himself on his stomach, his hands and knees sliding out from under him, catching himself when he fell. He tripped on something in the dark, but he couldn't tell if it was a root—maybe he should have been clearing a path through the roots with his power, hindsight is twenty-twenty—or something else. He lay where he had tripped for a moment, then attempted to get to his feet. He was caught, however. "Yes, this is exactly how people get axe-murdered in horror movies," Larry chided himself, tugging on his clothes, trying to free himself and getting a little impatient, " _Merde! Allez!_ " He hoped they made up quickly and found him on their way back, if he didn't get free right away.

* * *

It was the female emotional light switchery do-da that froze Moe in his place as the others walked off. It wasn't just the zero to sixty in a second flat that Rose displayed when she went from nice and cool to cold and scary when Curly arrived, but that part there a the end when she started stomping off on the verge of tears-TEARS! Was there anything scarier for a guy like him to have to deal with?-and then flipped a switch and was all smiling and polite and saying she was glad to have met him, that freaked Moses out.

Give him all the ghost and goblins and monsters and zombies and snakes and spiders and raccoons in the whole world over a single ... girl.

Truly, when Curly went after Rose, Moses was happy to let him go. It was his fault the princess was mad and scary, so he could deal with it. Moe was perfectly content to stand there, in the clearing, with Larry talking about nerd stuff. Larry staying meant Moe didn't have to follow and they could just be safe.

But then Larry started grumbling and following and that meant Moses couldn't not go anymore. It was some sort of code. If Moses stayed while his two friends were dealing with the... girl, then Moe was letting them down, abandoning them and not having their backs. Kind of like a soldier who doesn't go in and back up his mates when trudging after the enemy, in enemy territory.

Still. It took Moe a minute to get his feet moving in that awful direction, his stomach in knots. Unfortunately, the seemingly impenetrable darkness of the woods made hte knot in his stomach twist. He wasn't afraid of the dark or anything but that didn't mean he was all that comfortable traversing through it when he could barely see his own hand in front of him.

"Larry? Curly?" he called out. "Ro-ro-Rosssee? Rose?"

* * *

Right after Larry had let out his curse, a rather chilling and terrible realization came over him.

Whatever had a hold of him was  _alive_. And maybe it was just him, but it seemed particularly angry.

His stupid costume looked battle ready, but he had no flashlight, no glowsticks, nothing. So of the possible things that could be pinning him down, general darkness seemed very possible. Recklessly mad, Larry put his hand flat to the earth and tried to find the nearest tree root with his power, and once he had, pushed his power into the root making it lift from the earth and swipe out at whatever might have tripped him. The sound of something taking a hit and the feeling of whatever had him pinned leaving happened simultaneously. Huzzah. Larry sprang to his feet, put apparently, so did his attacker.

Larry was rammed back to the ground again, his helmet catching his head oddly, his bazooka forgotten. Pain seemed to go head to toe in a second, probably the strongest where the thing had hit him. " _Casse-toi,_ " Larry cursed, adrenaline hitting his blood stream. He tried again to send a couple of roots in the way of the thing, which worked for half a second. Larry shuffled back, stopping when he felt a tree at his back. The roots, at least for that particular tree, seemed thick enough to protect him, hopefully, until someone else showed up.

Hearing, from more than one place, a voice, Larry let out a shout of "Here!" before having to fend off another few attacks. Whatever it was in the dark, it had more than one leg. That thought was oddly specific, and alarming, when he had it. A spider came to mind. But it would have to be one hell of a spider, considering what it took to keep the thing away from him. Standing flush against the tree, Larry put on hand on the bark and one arm across his stomach, which was oddly wet, and kept the roots swishing before him. Whoever had made noise, Larry hoped they could fight a giant spider, or he and they were fucked.

* * *

Curly stood, taking Rose's hand as he did so, and pulled her with him toward where he first heard Larry's voice - hearing Moe's voice calling at nearly the same moment. It was with a sense of relief that he first quickened his pace - Larry and Moe were close by, which meant he could take all his friends and get out of the creepy woods together. And then finish the conversation with Rose, hopefully with his best mates to back him up on what he said.

Except... he recognized that sound. The creaking, groaning, thudding noises of Larry using his ability to... do what exactly, Curly didn't know, but he could easily imagine dozens of absolutely horrifying reasons for his friend to be throwing tree roots around. "Larry!" Holding tighter to Rose - not wanting to lose her in the process of finding the other prince - he broke into a run.

He didn't need to go far though to reach the scene of the battle - a battle he could barely even make out. "MOE! We need light!" What the fuck was Larry fighting? Was that... a spider? A giant spider.

* * *

Rose bent down to retrieve the bottle of  _Jack Daniels_ she had swiped form the Clearing (why did she take it in the first place?) She did not like the noises coming from that darkness, not one bit. They were strange and creaking, and even the ground seemed to move from them. What was going on? Storming in here when she was upset and angry was one thing, but walking around when emotions aren't clouding your judgement... that was a whole different story. It was more than a little freaky, so when Curly's hand took hers she did not pull away. Holding it made her feel just a little bit braver.

The distress in Curly's voice when he called for his friend did not help matters any, but when he broke into a run she didn't need to be dragged – her own legs carried her faster than she ever remembered them to, fear for the well-read prince giving them wings.

When they made it to the scene, the breath hitched in her throat. A giant, dark silhouette was looming over a green-clad figure hunched against a tree. Curly clutched her hand tighter, but it was all she could do not to pass out.

Larry was being cornered by an Acromantula.

* * *

Hearing the distress of his friend, Moses crashed through the trees, stumbling and tripping and staying on his feet and stumbling again while he attempted to run blind. Light! Right! As he ran, Moe pulled out the attachment to his 'gun'. It was a camera flash that mounted onto his gun camera like the monitors he'd seen in movies that detected heat signatures. This one was obviously for the camera but he stopped at the sounds of other crashing right before him and tried. To get. The Mother fucking thing to-

It clicked into place and suddenly the area burst into bright illumination that it made Moe flinch and the... monster creature shriek. "Holy fu-fuck." He instantly sent up a rueful word up to the powers that be; he hadn't been serious about the zombies and monsters and spiders and shit. They were supposed to know that. "Larry!"

* * *

Larry lifted up the arm from across his stomach to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness, his other hand still controlling the tree roots, which took the stunned opportunity presented by the blinded giant spider (yes, Giant Spider) and sucker punched it in the "chest." As his arm came down, when he got used to the brightness, Larry paused, seeing dark against the green of his costume. He looked at his stomach, and if it was still in his abdomen, it dropped to his toes. Blood. What seemed to him like an awful lot of blood. A sensible part of his scattering wits told him to put pressure back on it. It can't bleed if there's pressure on it.

"Curly! Moe!" Larry yelled, looking around the thrashing roots (thrashing because his focus on the roots was being diverted to surviving the blood) and seeing Rose as well, "It hit me hard! I'm bleeding!" He leaned more heavily against the tree, heart hammering in his ears. His parents would be so disappointed in him for dying in a green soldier toy Halloween costume, killed by a giant spider at a party that wasn't supposed to be happening. So, he couldn't die. But, thinking about it made it seem likely. Because who brought a giant spider to the Halloween Party? "Curly! Moe! Rose! Kill it quickly!" Larry shouted, punctuating it with a groan, bellowing causing his wound to almost throb in rebellion. His body was telling him to sit down and not shout and not use his power. Just put pressure on his wound and wait for two princes and a princess to save him.

* * *

A giant fucking spider. Curly wasn't always the type to curse, but when he saw the thing in the almost blinding illumination of Moe's camera light, that was the main phrase running through his mind. A fucking giant spider.  _A giant fucking spider was attacking his friend!_

Roots waved through the air, smacking into the thing and sending it reeling back, but even Larry's power of plants wasn't enough to force the thing away. It was too big and  _way_  too pissed off.

But the instance he heard Larry shout the word "bleeding", his attention immediately rerouted to his friend. Curly could barely make out the other green toy soldier beyond the spastic motions of the roots, but even so, he could see the blood staining the other prince's abdomen. "Oh shit," he breathed, almost dropping Rose's hand to go to Larry, to help him - that was a lot of blood.

At the last second before he could unthinkingly react, he remembered the other two people in this situation besides him. Eyes wide, he looked at Rose, speaking quickly. "Wish for something to kill the spider," he said - he didn't have time to think up something and wish for it. "Shout it. Moe's magic. I have to get Larry."

Not waiting for a response, Curly let go of Rose's hand and dove under the flailing roots, heading for his other friend. He had to get his hands on Larry to start healing him before he lost too much blood - the thought occurred to Curly that he might have been bitten, only serving to increase the urgent need to grab his friend and send his unique brand of magic flowing through him. There was no telling how quickly the venom of such a creature worked.

* * *

Rose's heart stopped. Larry was bleeding.

The thought shot an electrical shock through her, sobering her mind in an instant. Her first instinct was to run over to him, but before she could move, Curly dashed forward, telling her some cryptic words about wishing. At first she was just left to stare after him in confusion, but the obvious answer came quickly – one of them could grant wishes. She hadn't known the Stooges had powers, nor would she have thought to ask what they were, but it was reasonable to assume, seeing as most of the students did.

Her blue eyes turned to the Acromantula and the text of the  _Encyclopedia of Dangerous Creatures_ flashed to the forefront of her mind. Acromantula. Giant Spider. Inhabits jungles and forested areas. Prefers large prey.  _Has poisonous secretion_. She had to act, and  ** _fast_** , or Larry was done for. They had to take him to the Infirmary before the poison could reach his heart and do something irreversible.

Rose circled the creature, which was still struggling with the out-of-control roots waving all over the place. Her mind was quickly taking inventory and looking for a way to penetrate the Acromantula's thick hide. The only things they had were toy guns and a bottle of  _Jack Daniels_...

That's it!

Rose uncapped the bottle and splashed the alcohol on the giant, hairy body. However, this had the unfortunate side effect of drawing the creature's attention, and it turned towards her instinctively. She was too busy looking at the eight, shiny eyes to notice the leg that swung through the air and hit her with the strenght of a charging horse, sending her flying a few feet away.

"I wish the spider was on fire!" she managed to croak from the ground, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her shoulder.

* * *

Kill it quickly.

Technically that wasn't a wish but a command and he wasn't a genie. That was one. Two, even if it was a wish, he wouldn't grant it. The cost would have been too high. Like Larry, Curly, or Rose's death. Or a family member. Or another friend. A beloved pet. The list of possible costs went on. Three, that wasn't nearly as specific enough.

It was in moments like these when he wished-ironic, yes-he could grant his own. Just once. But it was not possible. "No-Wait" Moe tried to stop Curly's half-assed instructions before Rose screwed things up.

In a quick-for a guy with as large of feet as he-dash, Moe dodged a wayward strike of either a spider leg or a really angry root, and quickstepped over to Rose just as he commanded something of him. Lucky for him.

Without the usual hesitancy he experienced when in close proximity to a girl, Moses grabbed Rose by the shoulders and turned her to him. "Look at me. I need specifics." he demanded, not a stutter in sight. With his friends in danger, Moses was in his zone. Photography, electronics, computers, and ... wishgranting. Those were his zones. Nothing could throw him off when it came to things he was on something he knew. He knew what he needed and while he could have granted her "light the thing on fire" wish, Moses knew how a wish like that could backfire, how the cost could out-weigh the actual result. Specifics. Details. What was that saying, devil in the details?

Monster-killing, fighting big ol' beasts that could end his life. Not his Zones. Definitely not. But he wasn't focusing on that right now. "Rose, listen to me. I need you to focus, okay?" He nodded for her and resisted glancing back over his shoulder when he heard the spider screech. "I need you to make a wish. A serious wish, alright?" Again he nodded for her. He didn't know how freaked the girl was going to be about this. It was normal, average for people to be out of sorts when put in dangerous, life threatening situations. Thankfully, he'd been in something like this with Larry once before-and seriously, what was with Larry and big scary things trying to kill him?

Focus.

"You need to be specific. What you want. Where you want it. How. And say I wish oka-Aaah!" Moe didn't know what was coming for his head. His light was swinging at his side and only halfway illuminating the creature and the dangers. With it down by his side he couldn't even see his friends. But he had seen something coming at him just just managed to pull Rose into him and back. Unfortunately he fell back instead of doing some awesomely deft move that belonged to a seasoned 007. Also unfortunate was that something collided with his jewels.

There are no other words. He just wanted his mommy. And Air. And maybe the ability to have kids someday.

* * *

In a last-ditch effort to save himself from more bodily harm, Larry tried to make a cage around himself with roots, but he was pretty sure he had hit more than just the spider. The light was swinging wildly and then it wasn't, and all he could think of was that he had hit one of his friends. "I'm sorry, Moe," Larry breathed out, not feeling able to yell again. Not if he wanted to keep from ripping himself open.

He left enough room at the top of the root cage for Curly to drop in, but he couldn't leave himself vulnerable. " _Merde_ ," he said, nearly a whimper as he looked at his arm, covered as it was in blood. He was shaking, the adrenaline apparently wearing thin. To brace himself, he grabbed one of the roots with his free hand.

Curly couldn't have reached him any sooner, and Larry almost sagged in relief. "I think it bit me," he said, voice as strained as he was feeling. He hoped Rose and Moe were okay. It was up to them, now, apparently, to kill the damn thing.

* * *

"Good thing I'm around then, huh?" Curly didn't even think about what he was saying - all of his awareness, as soon as he got to Larry, was on the abdominal wounds the spider had inflicted.

Other people might be squeamish about blood, but the prince of Corona didn't hesitate to press his hands into the bleeding mess. The world dropped away as his magic swept through him, seeping into Larry with a barely visible golden glow. With that glow went Curly's mind, diving into the jagged puncture marks of the spider's fangs, zipping through blood vessels, tissues and organs, taking stock of the damage to Larry's body before focusing his efforts on the most immediate problem.

Which, perhaps surprisingly, was not the bleeding. Larry would probably have liked Curly to take care of that first, but the healer had found something that ranked much higher on his list of dangers to his friend's life. The spider's venom. Already, it had made far too much progress through the other teen's body, every pump of his heart spreading it. If Curly tried to heal the obvious wounds first, the toxins would collect in Larry's brain and heart, killing him.

Target acquired, Curly poured more of his magic - more of that special part of himself - into forcing the venom out of Larry's body before it could hurt him anymore. He was utterly unaware of the rapid increase in the golden light of his magic, the once faint glow almost a miniature sun shining from his hands.

* * *

Rose winced in pain when Moe seized her shoulders, but bit down the cry rising in her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise when he gave her clear, precise instructions. Not a hint of stutter, not an ounce of hesitation; he was almost like a completely different person. Then something attacked them from the darkness and she felt him draw her forward, then fell on top of him with a grunt, her knee ramming him right in the groin.

If this was not a life-or-death situation she would have apologized profusely, but the wheels in her mind were turning at full speed. His magic had rules?! What could be more specific than 'I want this spider to be on fire'?! What brand of weird magic was this and why did it have to be so complicated and hard to compre—

_Larry, blood, poison, **focus**._

She had to wish for a source of fire, but even then, she'd have to somehow get close enough to hit it, and she did not want to get  _anywhere_  near that thing again. Her left arm was still throbbing painfully, but she picked herself up from Moe slightly so she could look at him.

"Moe," Rose said urgently, gripping his arm to get his attention. "Moe, listen. I've read about these. Fire is our best bet, but it won't be easy. I wish that a lit torch appeared in my right hand right now."

She held out her hand so she wouldn't set  _him_ on fire.

* * *

Moe heard the girl calling to him. Shaking him a bit, probably, or else the world was shaking? What was he doing with a girl? A girl?

He didn't figure it out before he completely blacked out.

* * *

Rose kept shaking him, but it was obvious that Moe was quickly losing consciousness. Her head whipped around to look at the Acromantula, which had once again turned its attention to the two princes in the root cage. She looked back to Moe. Now she was completely on her own.

A sudden sense of dread befell her like a suffocating blanket. Could she do this without him? How was she supposed to take down a two-ton spider on her own, she was just a girl! She couldn't fight or make tings appear just by thinking about them, she couldn't possibly—

A loud creaking sound snapped her back to reality. The monster had advanced on the cage the boys were using for protection and was banging on it, the roots screaming out as they bent under the long, hairy appendages. In the light of Moe's gun, Rose could still see Larry's limp form, and Curly, bent over him. If she didn't do something, and fast, they were both going to die.

Fear gripped her heart once more, clearing her thoughts. A solution, she needed a solution. A spark, that was all it would take to set the thing on fire, but where, how... Her eyes fell on the discarded bottle of  _Jack Daniels_ , and a lightbulb went up in her head. A Molotov Cocktail!

Rose rolled off Moe and reached for the bottle. It was still half-full, and she reached behind her, carelessly ripping the bent and broken wings of her costume. She then twisted the light, nylon-like fabric into a long wick, soaking it in alcohol. Now all she needed was...

She looked to the camera gun. It was the only source of light, but there was no time for hesitation. Rose grabbed the gun and found the battery compartment, the creaking of the roots making her panic, her movements growing clumsy. She stopped and took a deep breath. The calmer she was, the faster she could make this work.

Taking the battery out, the princess ripped off some of the soft tulle weaved through with sparkly metallic fiber that she had used in making the lining of her dress, which was already damaged by that earlier hit the monster landed on her, and frantically rubbed the battery to it. The laws of physics did not disappoint, and the fabric caught on fire within seconds. Rose bent down and blew on it, spreading the flames to the piece of nylon sticking out of the whiskey bottle. Wasting no more time, she ran straight up to the left side of the spider, and trying to hit the same spot twice, she swung the cocktail at the hairy body before her with all the strength she could muster.

The Acromantula wailed in pain as its body quickly became enveloped in flames. Rose backed away, then ran to where she had left the unconscious Moe, dragging him to the other side of the closest tree. Kneeling next to him, she listened to the monster thrashing around, hoping to every higher power Curly and Larry would not get trampled, and watching the shadows dance ominously on the ground.

After the sounds died down, she peeked around the tree, seeing the spider on its back, still burning, its legs waving around helplessly. Then it stilled.

Rose took a hold of Moe once again and dragged him to the tree where the other two were. By the time she made it, she was panting heavily – Moe was not exactly small. She then leaned on the trunk with one hand, the other on one of the root-bars. Curly had his hands on his friend, emitting a bright yellow glow. Curly had magic. How did she not think to ask him if he had a power before? When her eyes fell on Larry, however, she completely forgot about questions and magic.

Larry had passed out, presumably from the pain, but his face was ghostly white, and he was still and unmoving. Rose felt her throat tighten and the corners of her eyes sting. This boy, who was smart and courteous, who had entered these woods because  _she_  was stupid enough to come this way, he could die from this and it would be  _all her fault_.

"Curly..." she managed to say. "He... is he..."

Rose couldn't even finish that thought.

* * *

When Curly healed someone, he had to focus on what he was doing to a certain degree. If it was something small - like his shoulder the first time he really talked to Rose - then he could carry on a conversation while his magic worked. But for something like this, something where he had to mentally dive into his patient's body and chase out venom threatening to choke the very life out of Larry, his focus was entirely on what he was doing.

So he wasn't really aware of the fight going on outside of Larry's protective root cage, nor when it ended. But Rose's voice, choked and scared and as full of worry as he was, slipped through the veil of his concentration, and he pulled back from his healing to answer her, the light fading as he did so. "We need to get him to the infirmary." His voice came out steady, but the grimness in it made it hard to recognize that he had actually spoken.

Shrugging off his jacket, one part of his mind still in Larry's body, a protective bubble of golden light keeping the spider's poison from reaching the other prince's heart, he pressed the un-dyed inside portion against the puncture wounds still weeping blood from Larry's abdomen. He used the sleeves to tie the make-shift pressure dressing in place, then pulled them both out of the root cage, grunting with effort - Larry may have appeared to be on the skinny side, but light he was not.

When Curly spotted Moe's unconscious form beside Rose, a moment of despair hit him, strong and almost overwhelming. How were they going to get the two of them out of here and to the infirmary? Rose wasn't a warrior princess, and even if Curly wasn't some weakling, he couldn't carry both his best friends. "Here," he said, maneuvering Larry so that Rose could hold-slash-carry him in the most efficient way he knew - the fireman's carry. "Larry's lighter - I'll take Moe." He didn't bother to tell her to mind Larry's stomach - whatever damage she caused couldn't be worse than what would happen if they failed to get him to the infirmary in time.

For a moment, as he picked up Moe in the same carry that he had given Larry to Rose in, he wished that he was the unconscious one, not Moe. Despite the fact that Moe was generally the least physical of the three, he was the tallest by three inches and definitely the broadest. And for all that Moe was a stuttering mess with girls, Curly knew he could count on him to have gotten all of them safely out of there.

* * *

In the few months she had known him, Rose had never once heard Curly this serious, and it only cemented in her mind the severity of the situation.

But he didn't say all was lost just yet.

Rose stripped away what little remained of her wings and secured Larry as best she could on her shoulders with Curly's help, then stood up shakily. Larry was certainly not light, but he was not as heavy as she expected. After only two steps, something warm and wet soaked through the fabric and smeared on her naked shoulders. Rose wanted to cry again, but kept a straight face and stifled any sound before it could escape her throat. Larry's life was literally in her hands, and no matter what, she refused to let him down.

Hurrying to match Curly's pace, the young princess followed him back to the school, the warm wetness on her back a constant reminder to keep going, to ignore the fatigue. To get to safety.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Waking up was hell.

He might have been mostly healed, but Larry hardly felt like it. His stomach hurt, and his skin above it felt like it itched but was also stretched tight, and his throat was dry. Thank goodness for someone leaving a cup with a straw within easy reach. After tending to his thirst, Larry settled again where he lay and tried to go back to sleep. It wasn't in the cards, apparently. Thoughts spun in his head, and flashes of the damn spider kicked into his brain again, as if seared into the backs of his eyelids. He thought about if his parents had gotten wind of the incident. He thought about where Moe and Curly and Rose were, worried about them, though, if he was honest with himself, they would have had to have made it out to bring him to the Infirmary.

It was going to be a long morning... day... twilight into night-whatever it was. Larry could only tell that it was light out.

* * *

Rose walked towards the Infirmary, carrying a blue vase of pink roses in her hands while her ukulele was swinging from her shoulder and a picnic basket hung from her arm.

This whole thing was her fault. Last night, after she and Curly managed to drag the unconscious bodies of Moe and Larry to the Infirmary, everyone else was free to go after a quick check up, having sustained only minor injuries. But Larry... Curly's magic had kept him alive, but the wounds were too severe, and the nurse insisted on detaining him a couple of days. Simply the memory of his blood on Curly's hands was enough to make Rose's throat tighten. A giant, hungry Acromantula, facing that was no problem. Facing the thought that Larry might die...

Rose's grip tightened around the vase. Just the image of him, lying on the ground, cold and unconscious, covered in red... it made the flowers in her hands shake a little. The young princess had found out something new about herself last night – she was squeamish when it came to blood. Especially blood of people she cared about.

She just knew she had to do something, go see how he's doing. Unable to sit still all morning, she barely got through her Interior Design class, and, deciding that she couldn't wait anymore, opted to skip all of her clubs in favour of visiting Larry.

Rose pushed the door to the Infirmary carefully. It was empty, and though the warm afternoon sun was shining brightly, she felt a cold chill upon entering this place again. Nearing Larry's bed with slow, deliberate steps, she called his name softly.

"Larry?"

* * *

Larry must have drifted, because the sound of his name brought him back to the land of the waking.

"Yes?" he croaked before he had his full mental facilities back. His eyes roamed the room for a minute before settling on Rose. Something in him was genuinely and shockingly touched to see here there, and as he looked at her, that she was there with a vase of pink roses and a picnic basket. He smiled, happy to see her, nothing more than that taking up much space in his tired mind.

" _Ça va?_ " he asked, voice throaty but otherwise strong. Being on the mend seemed to sap his voice. " _Qu'est-ce que c'est?_ " Waving a wobbly hand at Rose's extras, Larry was curious. It was unusual for him to be laid up in bed, sick, and have anyone other than his mother visit him. But it had been quite a while since he had been sick. The fog was still over his brain. He wondered if the spider had had venom, and if the healers had been able to dispel all of its effects, or if some of it was still in his system, causing lethargy and lack of focus.

* * *

Rose's heart sank. Larry seemed really drained, and even his voice sounded tired. She tried to smile.

" _Ça va bien_. But that doesn't matter. How are you? Does it still hurt?" the princess said in concern, taking a step closer. "Erm, I... I brought you some flowers," she added awkwardly when he gestured to her, holding up the vase to him so he could see them up close. Then she set it on the bedside table and went on to say, "Thought they might cheer you up. I wasn't sure what kind you liked, so..." Rose looked to the flowers again. "Pink roses sort of remind me of home. We have this garden full of rose bushes. In the summer, when they bloom, the whole palace smells of them. My mother told me that's why she named me 'Rose' – I was born in the middle of July, right when they bloom."

* * *

"Does what 'hurt?' The holes in my stomach or my pride?" Larry asked, a small smile pulling on his lips. But dry humor might not have been what Rose wanted from him. Then again, maybe she was just checking on him, like Curly or Moe would be doing if they weren't in class. Or whatever they were doing at that moment.

The flowers in her vase were beautiful, but not perfect. They could be perfect, vibrant, large, but he had no energy to spare. " _Splendide_ ," he said instead, "They're magnificent, Rose, and I thank you for bringing them. I am sure your roses at home are, by far, the more lovely. Your mother chose well." Complimenting people was second nature to Larry, and multiply it by how he was tired and that Rose had made him very happy by dropping by, and it was a wonder he wasn't singing to her.

* * *

Rose chuckled softly. "There's no reason why your pride should suffer. Not everyone can fight an Acromantula and live to tell about it. You should feel proud, really. You might make it into a textbook."

Then she nearly rolled her eyes when he went off about the flowers, but managed to restrain herself. He almost sounded like her servants, constantly showering her with empty compliments, then talking about how cold she was behind her back. But... there was something different about how he said it, not in his voice, but in his dazed eyes. It was... warmer. And it made her smile back at him.

* * *

"With any luck, we'll all find a passage about our lives in a textbook," Larry mused, "Ruling kingdoms and making history and all, like our parents would want, eventually. Maybe they'll call me the Spider-king. Although, thinking of it, I can imagine being confused with a certain friendly-neighborhood-webslinger and life would never be the same." Oh, yes, his misfiring brain went to him being transformed by a spider bite.

* * *

A Spiderman reference? Rose didn't think Larry would be into comic books, but the fact was was somehow endearing. "I don't really care about being in textbooks. All I want is to be a good ruler, to not let my people down. If I can make the kingdom prosper and my subjects happy, I wouldn't really care if I'm remembered for anything or not." Then she thought of what was distinguishing about her specifically that someone might write about – the curse. "My parents will be remembered, probably. Not everyone can say they've been cursed to be a swan," she said sadly. If the worst aspect of her life ended up what she was remembered for... she'd rather fade into obscurity.

Then she sat down in a chair next to his bed, probably left there by Curly or Moe, and set the basket between them on the bed, reaching inside.

"I... brought tea. If you'd like some?" Rose held up a metal thermos, then added hesitantly, "But if you're too tired, I could... some other time?"

* * *

"Humanoid lion-bear-boar man... A beast, and likely forgotten otherwise," Larry said, almost as if to say,  _I've been there, too_. "My mother does a lot for the schools in our kingdom, though. It was almost annoying being carted around to all of them and put into a class with a group of children my age but otherwise had nothing in common with me on a daily basis. But it made for good photos. 'The prince sits in on reading.' 'The prince has lunch with strangers.' If I had told her it bothered me, she wouldn't have had me go, but she seemed so happy whenever I could go with her."

Almost greedily, he watched the thermos with rapt attention. "I'm never too tired for tea.  _Merci, mon ange_. I'm parched." Would his stomach leak like a balloon with needleholes in it? The mental image presented as funny, but he doubted that she would think so at the moment. And he imagined that the healers were a bit better than to leave him full of holes. "Curly's not still in trouble, is he?"

* * *

Happy that she wasn't bothering him, Rose beamed at him and pulled out the honey-lemon cupcakes she had bought, removing the plastic wrap. "I know they're not Curly-quality, but they're the best I could do on short notice," she said lightly, then took out the two china teacups (and plates to go with them), and set them on top of the basket lid, pouring the hot liquid into them carefully.

"I'm sure he's in  _some_ sort of trouble," Rose said with a roll of her eyes and passed him the cup, unable to help a small smirk. "But not with me, if that's what you mean." She sighed heavily, the smile slipping from her face. "I don't think he ever was. I was just... directing my annoyance at him because something he said hit too close to home. And I'm glad you feel well enough to drink," she added, a small frown making its way onto her face, "but please don't use nicknames with me. Especially ones such as that." Being called an angel struck something inside her, in all the wrong ways. Partly because white angel wings reminded her of swans, partly because she didn't like affectionate nicknames in general, and partly because calling a girl an angel was so generic it was almost meaningless.

* * *

That first "romantic description" he had made of Rose was amended when she smiled at Larry. Her smile was like white light spilling out of a crack in a door, illuminating darkness. That would be a very poetic description, were he prepared to write it down, but it was gone almost as soon as he thought it, attention stolen by the sight of cupcakes. He would have called her his angel again, but just as he was thinking to do so, she was telling him not to.

" _Je voulais pas te vexer_ ," Larry said, seeing her frown and imagining that maybe he should have called her a godsend or something less pet-like. An angel, to him, was not a common person, nor was what they did. "I don't use it lightly, but from now on I will use Rose.  _Je suis navré_." Even if it wasn't as big of a deal as his apology might have made it sound, he couldn't quite judge how mad or hurt she might be.

Larry took the cup carefully, still mostly laying down, almost afraid to move his torso more than necessary. The loss of her smile as she spoke about Curly made him wonder if his friend had said something insensitive or if it was more of an offhand comment. "Was that what took you off into the woods? Being annoyed?"

* * *

" _C'est ne rien_ ," Rose said when Larry apologized, giving him a small, reassuring smile. " _C'est juste que je pense les surnommes affectueux sont... peu profond._  I call things as I see them." She held up a cupcake. "This is a cupcake. It's delicious, but it's not a piece of heaven and it's not a gift from the gods. It's a tasty dessert. Calling something by a different name only takes away from its value. Its real name should speak loud enough about how good or bad something, or someone, is."

She took a bite of the cupcake and raised the tea to her lips. Then he mentioned the Woods, and the hot drink did little to warm her. The cup clicked softly when the put it to the plate again, her expression slowly turning sad.

"Partly." Her hands shook again and she placed the tea onto the basket so it wouldn't spill. "Larry, I'm... I'm  _so_ sorry," Rose said, looking down at the bed. "What happened in there... what happened to  _you_... it was all my fault. If I hadn't been so irrational, if I had stomped in the direction on the school instead, none of this would've happened. You came in there because Curly followed me, and... God. I can't stop thinking about it. About you, bleeding out on the ground. I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes, and even my usual nightmares took a backseat to reliving it last night. I was starting to think I'd never again dream of anything but dark tunnels and ghostly whispers, but I'd rather go through it a million times than see you like that again." She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. Her throat was so tight with emotion it hurt. "I've read about Acromantulas. Their venom kills in minutes. Curly was trying to tell me you'll be alright, but there was so much blood and you weren't waking up..." She shivered. Then, afraid her voice would break if she spoke, Rose whispered, "I really thought you might die."

* * *

"So, no flowery language? I can abide by that, Rose, but if I slip up, please forgive me."

He listened very carefully, not realizing that his own near-death experience could have that sort of effect on someone. Before Moe and Curly, he had maintained that the only people who would have been sad if he were to perish would be his family, and maybe Mrs. Potts. Perhaps his country would mourn him as if they knew him, but he imagined that all but a few would move on after a week or so. To hear what he hadn't really had the waking time to process, what he had happen to him, but what she witnessed, had affected her so much... Did Rose like him that much already? Their interactions had been civil and almost... more than empathetic, but, he had been under the impression that his group of friends extended to, and would only ever include, Curly and Moe. But there was Rose. She was such a surprise. If he could use a video clip to describe what she had done to that notion, he would use the clip of the Grinch's heart growing three times as big from the old cartoon. He had a pattern, apparently. Making friends with people he went through extreme situations with.

So, as a friend, what would he say? If she were just Moe or Curly, what would he say? "I'm going to be okay, Rose. And so are you and Curly and Moe, and in the grand scheme of things, I'm fine with being the only one to get battle scars. It breaks my streak of saving Curly, but... that's not as important as us all living is. So, as long I can tell you that I'm okay, can that be enough for now?" He really was okay. He thought. Maybe tired and sore, but alive and going to be fine. "But you said something about nightmares? That doesn't sound good. Do you want to talk about those? I can listen."

He finally took a drink of his tea, which was delicious to the point where he almost groaned.

* * *

Can that be enough? In all honesty, probably not. And Rose was always honest.

"I don't know," she said quietly, dragging her hands down her face, sighing deeply. Why was she so emotional lately? Was it the sleep deprivation? "Your reassurance, however well-meaning it may be, won't help me any more than Curly's. It can't make me forget that you're in this bed because of me. Or what we all went through that night. Even if it's in the past... words won't make it okay." Rose shot him a look, and the sight of him calmly drinking his tea was just such a sharp contrast to the way she would feel in his place it was almost comical. She huffed a small laugh and shook her head. "How can you be this nonchalant about your own mortality? Has your pride recovered already, or are these not the first holes in your stomach?"

Still... he was alive. And  _that_ could be enough. For now.

Enough to lighten the tight ball of guilt in her stomach a little bit, at least. Maybe even enough to lessen the nightmares. After all, she just had to tell herself that he  _did_ end up surviving. As for her other nightmares...

"Oh, that's alright," Rose said, trying to sound casual, though her entire body stiffened at the question. "They're only silly dreams. Well, one dream. I've had it for..." She looked up thoughtfully. "About a month and a half? It repeats every night."

* * *

"I cannot do anything more than tell you that I'm okay and that the danger has past," Larry said, just before tipping his cup back again to drink. The warm liquid coated his throat so much more than the water had, and it made him sound a little stronger. He also had just enough time to wonder why he was so nonchalant about his own mortality. "I'm so used to asking Curly the same question... But I suppose, in this situation, I trusted Curly not to let me die. Being hurt is one thing, fearing for your life is another. I suppose I never felt in any real danger. Not with Moe and Curly and you there to help. In answer to your question, though, no, I don't usually get bitten by giant monsters."

A recurring dream? Weren't those dangerous? "Doesn't sound particularly silly. What happens in the dream?"

* * *

Huh. Well that was an unexpected answer. _Being hurt is one thing, fearing for your life is another._

Rose stared at the liquid in her cup and drank again.

Trusting your friends to save you... this concept was wholly unfamiliar to her. In part because she'd never had friends, and in part because she had always been taught to be self-reliant. Queens may have advisers, but in the end everything is on their shoulders, every decision and every burden needs to be handled by them alone. There is no space for relying on someone. No time to be weak and expect help. If she couldn't get out of something on her own, it would never cross her mind to trust someone else to save her.

"It's a good thing they were there, then," she said finally. "I suppose it would make sense, believing in someone you trust to get you though. I'm not very... experienced in that regard."

Rose reached for another cupcake and chewed slowly to avoid his question. She hadn't told anyone about the dreams yet, not even Curly. But the stress had been building for a while now, and she was starting to feel like she wanted to say something. Larry wouldn't make fun of her. What could it hurt to tell him?

"Er... it's a bit... odd," she said, fidgeting uncomfortably. "I'm just walking down this dark, cold tunnel and I'm looking for something. I don't know what it is or where it is, I just know that I need to find it. The first few times I was just wandering in the tunnel, but then the dream started to go on for longer and longer. I keep hearing this... this whisper in my ear, and I can't even tell what it's trying to tell me. The last few nights I made it to a chasm of some sort, and I know  _it_ 's down there, but I don't know what it is or why I want to find it, or even where this tunnel is. Sometimes I can see a woman down in the chasm, and she begs me for help just before I wake up. Most nights it's just wandering in the tunnel though..."

Rose stopped to take a deep breath. The information spilled out of her a lot more easily than she'd expected.

* * *

"Well, as they say, it 'wasn't our first rodeo.' Moe and Curly and I have been through something similar. It was, actually, what really cinched our friendship," Larry explained, feeling the need to say so before moving on to listen to her description of her nightmare. He could see that it wasn't something great for her to speak of, but, as he listened, he absently thought that she needed to tell someone.

"I don't claim to know anything about dream symbolism, because I don't really. But, going off a literal meaning of a dream, and why it's recurring, it couldn't be that she's actually trying to get you to help her, is she? You've never seen her before?" It was concerning that Rose was having such detailed dreams. His stomach was warm from the tea, and suddenly he was very concerned about his intake of liquid. He would die of embarrassment if he had to use a bedpan. He might die from the thought of using one while he had been out of it. Setting his tea down, he wondered if he could move carefully enough to not hurt himself or upset what was on the bed to get out of it. "I... I wouldn't ask — I wouldn't — unless it was of the absolute importance, but would you help me up? I need to use the washroom, and I'm not sure that I'll make it on my own."

At least he wasn't asking for a bedpan. That was all that could make up for his embarrassment.

* * *

"Well... do you remember the book I was reading back when we first met? At the Greenhouse?" Rose said, finally looking Larry in the eyes. "The dreams had been going on for a couple of weeks at that point, and usually when I face a problem I can't solve, the Library is the first place I go to. So I checked out this book on dream theories, and, according to psychology, you can't dream of things you've never actually seen. Even if it was a fleeting glance, even if you forgot about it, your mind can't paint you a picture you've never glimpsed. And that's the odd part – I can tell you with absolute certainty that even if I  _have_  seen a woman like that in passing, I have never,  ** _ever_** been in a dark, stone tunnel in my life. I've barely left the castle back in Oloria before I came here." Her forehead creased as she thought over the deeper implication his words. "Wait... are you saying that this tunnel... this woman... is  _real_? That it might actually exist?" She'd never even thought of it being an actual place before. It was all a figment of her imagination.

Wasn't it?

"Sure," she said quickly when he asked for her help and carefully moved the basket to the ground, placing it at the legs of his nightstand, next to where she had left her ukulele. Then she stood up and gently wrapped an arm around his torso, helping him to sit, and then to stand. He still seemed rather wobbly, so Rose draped his arm over her shoulders to steady him, her own still around his waist, hoping she wouldn't press a wound and cause him pain.

"Are you sure you should be moving?" she asked in concern, her eyes darting to his middle, scared that red could flower on the fabric at any moment, before returning up to meet his.

* * *

It was unimportant if Larry remembered the book or not, or so he figured. She explained what it was without saying it.

As she helped him onto his feet, Larry tried to keep his mind off whether or not he felt like his organs may drop out of him and onto the floor. He tried to keep his mind off it by answering her questions. " _Merci_ ," he started, once his bare feet were on the cold stone slabs— _cold_ stone slabs—, "Yes, I'm sure I should be moving. The alternative is not something I could live through, and of that, I am sure as well." The first step was the hardest. Larry felt like his gut was telling him to go back to bed, but his bladder was absolutely not going to go unnoticed. So, he picked up his other foot and kept walking. If he was wincing at every step, he didn't notice.

"Now, on the other subject, I wasn't asking that specifically, but yes. It's possible, isn't it? That maybe this woman you've seen is projecting her image in your mind...? Maybe she really does need your help."

They were at the door for the bathroom, and Larry tried to extract his arm from Rose's hold. "I should be able to make it the rest of the way on my own. I'll run water and be done in a minute." He hobbled in and shut the door behind him, careful to do as he said.

When he was done, he washed his hands, hobbled to the door, and braced himself against it for a moment, forehead against the wood, his toes spread wide on the cool tiles to keep himself grounded. When he had his bearings again, Larry pulled on the door. Thank goodness it wasn't as heavy as a hospital bathroom door. He looked to Rose, and it struck him that her parents—and possibly his—might find this highly inappropriate. Highly unbefitting of two royal heirs. But she was helping him, and he was grateful.

* * *

Larry looked like he was walking on knife blades, but Rose tried now to show that it made her heart fall all the way to the pit of her stomach. Luckily, she was rather good at keeping a straight face.

"I... I suppose it's possible. Everyone in this school seems to have crazy powers. Even you and Curly and Moe... Sometimes I think I must be the only normal person in a school full of superheroes," she said lightly, trying not to think of the way he sucked in a breath every time he moved.

When they made it to the bathroom, he slipped from her grasp and went inside, and she leaned on the wall and thought about what he said. Was it possible that all this time someone was trying to reach out for her, and she had adamantly ignored them? The implication made her heart sink even deeper. There were people in this school that could project illusions, make it snow, grant wishes, heal... why couldn't there be someone who could affect dreams? The nightmares did start on her very first week here... And how would it be possible otherwise to dream so vividly of a place she'd never been to before? But even if it was real, she' d never seen this person before! Rose strained her memory, but long, red hair was something that would usually stand out enough, and none of the girls in her classes or that she could remember seeing around campus resembled the woman in her dreams. Not to mention that she was clearly an adult, not a school girl.

When the door opened again it almost startled her, snapping her out of her thoughts. She moved to support him again, when he gave her this odd look. Almost... weary?

"What is it?" she asked, a bit worried that he re-opened his wounds in there.

* * *

"I suppose someone would call this improper. I can hear my tutors right now," Larry said and then switched into an overblown, nasally impression of an old tutor of his, " _'My Prinze! Ze improprietz! Zis is an ouzrage! Zhe iz ze prinzezz! 'er familyz! UUCH! I ensured your parenzz zhat you had better mannerz zhan zhat! Oh what am I to do?! My reputation! Oh ze 'orror!'_ " Larry wasn't yelling, not truly. And he was smiling, crooked and somewhat tired, but smiling nonetheless. "But I've come to terms with life being different here in school. Or by having friends. Moe and Curly have made it easier to forget propriety. This is more comfortable than it used to be."

Hobbling back to bed with her help was more tiresome than it had seemed to get to the bathroom. It crossed his mind that without the urgency he had before, his energy was being sapped to the point of exhaustion. The floor seemed to lengthen before his eyes. His mind tried to distract itself. "I was under the impression that everyone who came to this school had a hidden power. I wasn't born with mine. An enchantress — the very same Enchantress that put the spell on my father, actually — I suppose thought it would be fitting to have the son of the beast prince and his wife have a modicum of control on plants. My parents were less than enthusiastic to see her coming for my tenth birthday." Despite it being nearly six years before, Larry remembered the look on the faces of his parents when the Enchantress found them in Agrabah on his birthday, and yet he couldn't describe it. It was that comical.

* * *

Rose chuckled softly at his impression, relieved he wasn't in pain after all.

"I know what you mean," she said with a smile, stepping closer and coiling her arm around him again. "I'm usually not one for physical contact at all, but... this isn't exactly the first time I've carried you on my shoulders." Moe and Larry were both unconscious that night, and Curly had been adamant that they wouldn't leave anyone behind. Larry was the lighter option, though in truth, Rose was surprised at just  _how_ light Larry had been then, and the memory sent chills down her spine. "At least this time there isn't any blood."

She helped him to the bed, though each step seemed to sap his strength more and more. "I agree that friends do make things less... formal. Though I wouldn't say I'm comfortable with casual contact." After a second of thought, she added, "Or that I ever will be." The only reason Larry was an exception was that he almost died in front of her - the "touch barrier" had been completely melted away by his blood. Rose usually jumped when someone so much as touched her, but after an ordeal like that she didn't even blink at being this close to him. But he was a special case. She couldn't even remember hugging her own parents over the age of five. It wasn't just improper, it invaded her personal space.

Rose was rather surprised to hear that Larry was "given" this power. At least it was something he could control. Something useful. Something he wasn't afraid of.

"Well, I don't have a hidden power," she said. That awful curse couldn't be considered anything near a "gift" or a "power". It was exactly what it was – a curse, and all she'd gotten out of it was fear. "I wouldn't mind having something like your ability, though. It's a good one. I'm just a regular girl; I can't make things happen just by thinking about it." She frowned thoughtfully. "Unless I'm sensitive to psychic pleas for help?"  _Another_ thing she couldn't control? The thought was extremely unpleasant. "Though if that is true, I'm very bad at it. I don't even have a clue where this place might be! Dark, stone tunnels... There are no quarries or mines around Andover, are there?" If the woman in her dreams really  _was_ an actual person, Rose would feel extremely guilty for ignoring her this long.

* * *

"Quarries or mines? I don't really know. I haven't heard of any. But, if you would like me to, I can look up geographical surveys of the area. Maybe there will be some sort of marker. If there aren't quarries or mines, maybe there are caves or old catacombs. If I can't find anything, Moses would certainly be able to figure it out. My search capabilities are better served in the library than the internet." Larry smiled but also let out a sigh. "His power has nothing to do with technology, and yet, Moe is a techie-genius."

Regular girl? "I've met 'regular' girls, and I must say, Rose, that I would not call you one of them. And that isn't just one of those things people say to make other people feel better. You're intelligent and kind, and brave and compassionate, it seems. Not just any girl would help a boy they hardly knew to the bathroom, after all," Larry's filter seemed to have melted a little. Maybe the venom was once again acting on him. He continued, even though he was now sitting on the edge of the bed, easing his way back under the covers with a pillow behind his back to prop him up. "But I seem to recall you saying that it wasn't the first time that you carried me, which I can only assume to mean you carried me to the infirmary? Or back on to school grounds?"

Those very same tutors who would be so incensed at the idea of Rose helping him to the lavatory would be absolutely convulsing in their death throes at the idea of her carrying his bleeding incapacitated form out of the woods. Comically, it would be a golden moment.

* * *

Rose let out a small laugh. "I'm the same. Perhaps it's less efficient, but I would much rather be buried in books than fruitlessly struggle with computers. Physics and Chemistry I can do, but electronics... I can barely navigate a phone. But if you're serious about it, your help would be greatly appreciated. Just..." She cast a worried glance over him. "Just don't overexert yourself.  _D'accord_?"

She stared blankly at him as he sat on the bed. Those were all very fine virtues, but of all the things he listed, intelligent would be the only one she'd agree to. Kind? Most people thought her rather cold. Brave? She had only done two brave things in her life, both of which had disastrous consequences. Compassionate? Anyone would have helped an injured person. It was the natural thing to do. Still, the fact that Larry, someone she held in high regard, thought these things about her, made heat rise to her face. The initial impression she had formed of Curly had been strongly negative, but with Larry, it was the exact opposite, and the more they talked, the more he reaffirmed it. They had known each other for little more than a month, but they had so much in common that it felt like longer. And maybe it was the offhanded way he'd said it, but Rose felt like he was sincere, and was truly flattered. "Thank you for saying so, though I don't' think I agree on all counts," she said with a smile, sitting back in the chair. "But if I'm not regular enough for you, then who is?"

When he brought up last night again, she felt it slip from her face. "Infirmary," Rose replied, letting out a sigh. "I couldn't carry Moe if I tried, and we were in a rush to get you to the healers, Curly wouldn't stop for anything. I don't know how we did it; I probably couldn't repeat the feat now if I tried. Must've been the adrenaline."

* * *

" _D'accord_ ," Larry agreed, not really wanting to overexert himself for anyone or any reason—save not using a bedpan—and added, "All I need is a few books on the area or a few maps, older and newer. Maps shouldn't be too hard to hold up in bed." Truthfully, it didn't seem like he met many people who didn't view search engines on smart phones to be the best invention in the last fifteen years. There was something very kindred about Rose, and it wasn't just that she was in the same Curly-driven hell as him. (His thoughts were only being sarcastic.)

"Ah, and when I said 'regular' girls, I suppose I meant the type I met most while traveling with my parents. Easily star-struck, hopelessly obsessive with fads, easily swayed into what's popular... 'regular,' being mindlessly modern, I suppose." That might have seemed shallow for him to say, but in his rather underwhelming experience with having friends and truly getting to know everyone he met, those sentiments were true. His had been a life of wanting to get back to the books he craved to read until his tenth birthday and the Enchantress put the mark on his wrist, and after then, it was searching for the friends he was supposed to meet. Moe and Curly had seemed impossible candidates, but he was well aware now, that first impressions could be very deceiving.

"I'm glad that your brain pumped the necessary hormones into your body for you to get me here. Thank you, Rose's brain. If ever I need that favor again, I'll know Rose will need to call on that strength again," said Larry, who was joking, because even if there were lingering traces of spider venom, Larry would never be so far gone down the rabbit hole to actually mean any of that. His smile had returned. "I'm very thankful, however you accomplished it, Rose, that you helped Curly get me here from the woods. Thank you."

* * *

Her smile quickly returned when he addressed her brain, soon evolving into outright genuine laughter. His particular brand of dry humour was always a joy to hear. "You're welcome," she said in-between giggles. "You know, I came here to cheer you up, but in the end it looks like you did that for me." Rose bent down and lifted her ukulele. "We can't have the injured taking care of the healthy. Time I returned the favour. I know a few songs in French, if you'd like to hear?"

* * *

A smile broke across his face, toothy and almost a grin. "I would recommend a large dose of gigantic spider venom to improve moods, then. As for the comedy routine, being friends with Curly and Moe has corrupted me, to a point. And lastly, the day I turn down being sung to in French in an infirmary accompanied by a ukulele is a cold day in Hell, indeed. Please, please. Play anything. I have no musical talent, so I'll be hugely impressed with anything."

* * *

Rose laughed again. That grin of his alone was enough to make her giggle. "Don't even joke about the venom," she said lightly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed (playing in a chair was extremely uncomfortable). "I don't think I can handle a second round with that thing." Bending one led under her, she propped the instrument on her thigh and plucked all four strings one after the other to make sure all were in tune. They were, since she'd tuned it just before she came.

Rose thought she'd start with the easier one, having played it the longest. "My mother used to sing this one to me when I was little," she said to Larry, keeping her eyes on the strings. She strummed the intro in a slow, lulling _down, down-up, up-down_ pattern. G minor. G major 7. E minor.

" _Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voilà le portrait sans retouche de l'homme auquel j'appartiens_." Pause.  _"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose_." Two down strums on the C chord. " _Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose._ " Back to G minor. " _Il est entré dans mon cœur une part de bonheur dont je connais la cause..._ " Pause. A high D chord. " _C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie. Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie..._ " Again to G minor. " _Et dès que je l'aperçois, alors je sens en moi... Mon._ " C chord. " _Cœur._ " D major. " _Qui_." G major. " _Bat_."

* * *

As Rose perched herself on the edge of the bed, Larry prepared himself.

Lullabies were usually part of a child's life. Larry was no different. His mother's singing voice was incomparable, but it had been a long time since he had heard it. When she began, Larry closed his eyes, letting the strings of the ukulele paint a setting in his mind. He saw the form of a blonde woman—probably because of Rose's opening remark about her mother—in a sea of pink roses. The woman was alone but she was not lonely. If anything, the sway of her body and the tilt of her head told him that she was unremittingly happy. As she song drew to a close, the blonde woman bent and scooped up a pink rose and held it to her just barely visible nose, her equally pink lips pulling up into a sweet, secret smile.

Larry opened his eyes and the vision vanished. He looked to Rose and almost started clapping. "That was beautiful, Rose. A Life in Pink? I don't think I've ever heard it, but it was very beautiful. Did your mother write it?"

* * *

For a moment Rose just stared at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, then said, "Write it? No, of course not, it's an old French song. Have you really never heard of it?" She was surprised to hear this; he was from France after all. Then again, he did mention traveling a lot. Rose wondered what kind of music he listened to, if anything at all. Some people simply did not care much for music.

She scrunched up her face in thought to try and think of something he would have heard of, then her eyes gleamed excitedly. "Oh, you  _must_ know this one. It was written in 1784, but it has a popular English cover."

Rose looked down at the strings. How did the plucking go again? This one was a tad more complicated, mostly played in arpeggios. She took a slow breath and stroke an A chord. Surprisingly, her fingers automatically moved over the strings, muscle memory taking over her active thoughts. Middle finger, thumb, index, middle, thumb, index; Fourth string, third, first, second, fourth string, third, first, second.

" _Les hommes sages disent que seul les fous s'y précipitent. Mais je n'y peux rien si je t'aime. Devrais-je rester? Serait-ce un péché? Si je ne peux m'empêcher de t'aimer._ " Switch key to A minor. " _Comme une rivière coule inéluctablement vers la mer, Chéri, mon amour en fait de même..._ " Second string, third and first, fourth, first, third. " _Prend ma main, prend toute ma vie... Car je n'y peux rien si je t'aime. Car je n'y peux rien si... je... t'aime._ "

* * *

It took a moment to convert the ukulele cover to the popular English cover, but when he had, Larry was thrown into a mash-up of the two versions. As she drew the song into a close he smiled widely. "You're right. That one I know. Elvis' is the one I'm most familiar with. But I prefer your version,"  _whole-heartedly_ , he added in thought.

"I hadn't heard the other, unless it was a long time ago. My mother was the only one to sing me lullabies and it's been... years since the last time she sang one to me. Best guess: I had no interest in the lyrics before." He shifted on the bed, careful of his healing body, and added, "You seem to have a theme as far as songs go. But I do imagine a deathmetal cover would be harder on a ukulele than a love song cover would be." The corners of his lips pulled up while he fought off letting a sudden drowsiness keep his eyes closed for more than a couple of seconds.

* * *

His comment made a lot of sense, though she hadn't thought about it.

"I think love songs are just the ones that become the most widely known," Rose said thoughtfully. "Music comes from emotions, and good music comes from strong emotions. You wouldn't catch a song about a guy scratching his leg standing the test of time. And I tend to gravitate towards the classics."

She could see his eyes were becoming heavy. So much exertion must be taking its toll.

"I suppose I should let you get some rest," Rose said, reaching for the ukulele case. "The sooner you're strong enough to get out of here, the better."

* * *

He did listen, but his attention was fraying. When she offered to let him rest, Larry would have been worried about being rude, except that he was tired and still sore. Eyes meeting hers, Larry said, "Thank you for coming to see me. I really appreciate it," and he trailed off before adding, "And for playing your ukulele and singing and bringing cupcakes and tea. Thank you, Rose." However Curly had befriended this princess, Larry was glad he had. Making friends had been as simple as having near-death experiences for him. He drifted, unable to keep his eyes open and falling into a comfortable darkness.

* * *

Rose smiled at him. "You're welcome," she said. "I'm glad I came." She really was. Seeing him helped ease her worries, and hearing him joke made her feel like it all just might be okay.

Zipping in her ukulele, Rose saw he was beginning to drift off, and began to hum softly as she gathered the rest of the things and put them away in the picnic basket.

" _You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs_." The empty cups clinked as she placed them inside. " _But I look around and I see it isn't so_." She threw a look at Larry. Even if they were love songs, he still did enjoy them. " _Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs_." Rose stood up from the bed, the instrument secured on her shoulder and the basket firmly in her hand. " _And what's wrong with that?_ "

Then she gave the sleeping Larry one last smile. " _Soigne-toi_ ," she said quietly, even though he couldn't hear it, and left the Infirmary.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much just text messages between Rose and Curly

* * *

Text from: **Rose**

Hi Curly. I read this in a book and I thought you might like it.

"He could think in  _italics_. Such people need watching.

Preferably from a safe distance."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Are you trying to tell me something, Rose? XD

How's this one?

"I am nobody, nobody is perfect, therefore I am perfect."

So true, right?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I don't know, Curly. Do  _you_ think in italics?

Should have known you'd find a way to turn this into a joke.

"If you think you're nobody, just wait until you miss a couple of payments."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Of course I do. Doesn't everyone?

Why, Rose. I would never do something so irresponsible as miss payments! I'm a prince - missing a payment could be a diplomatic disaster.

This is one you should keep in mind, Rose.

"Don't frown. You never know who is falling in love with your smile."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

If someone is shallow enough to fall in love with me based on a such a trivial, skin-deep feature, I don't think I'd want them to.

"Achoo. Sorry, I'm allergic to superficial people."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

The smile is just the beginning.

"I wouldn't say I'm superficial, just averagely ficial."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

That's a good reason for me not to smile, then. Wouldn't want creeps proclaiming their love for me every five minutes.

"Dear Life, when I said 'Can my day get any worse?' that was a rhetorical question, not a challenge."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Rose! *strikes dramatic pose with hand over heart* I have come to proclaim my undying love for you! Your smile has captured my heart!

"The golden rule of work is that the boss's jokes are always funny." Well doesn't that just shake my confidence in my funniness?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

... Okay, that did make me laugh a little. Don't let it go to your head.

"I like work. It fascinates me. I sit and stare at it for hours."

You're not my boss (thank the Lord) so no need to worry there.

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Confidence restored! See, Rosie-Rose, I do need you.

"A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where train stops. On my desk, I have a work station."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Your confidence needs very little to be boosted, apparently.

"I won't be impressed with technology until I can download food."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

*gasp* That is the best and most sacrilegious quote ever! DOWNLOADABLE FOOD! Can you imagine that, Rose?

But then I probably wouldn't spend as much time cooking, which be a real shame. Larry says it's the best way to keep me out of trouble.

"The most beautiful line is: I brought you food. The most painful line is: I forgot your drink."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

At least if it was, I could download something more healthy. I can barely stomach most of the food they serve at the Dining Hall.

"I did not steal your drink. You abandoned it, and I rescued it."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

You want me to make you something? I'm sure I can come up with healthy food.

"Don't steal. The government hates competition." I'm not sure if I actually find this one funny or offensive... thoughts?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

That depends. Can you make something that hasn't been fried in week-old cooking oil?

"It's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong."

I would definitely call the person who said these things and let him (or her) sit on the throne for a day. Let them see what it's like to manage an entire Kingdom, then they'll have the right to complain.

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Of course! I always use TWO week old cooking oil.

Rose, what creative punishments you find for dissenters...

"There's nothing wrong with being superficial as long as you're insightful about it."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

In that case I think I'll stick to soggy carrots and humus.  
How would you deal with it then?

"I'm not saying you're shallow. I'm just saying that you're about as deep as a puddle. A very pretty, shiny puddle, though."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

You've had my cupcakes before, right? So you know I won't accidentally poison you with terrible food. What do you want for lunch tomorrow? I'll make it. No need to eat yucky school food when your friend can cook.

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Er... okay, I guess. I don't really remember if that cupcake was any good, it was a while ago... But sure. I don't know what to request though... Can you make baked sweet potatoes? The ones here a bit... bland.

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

...What have you been eating? Soggy carrots and humus? What the heck, Rose? I see you are in desperate need of my services. Baked sweet potatoes coming right up! (But that's not really a meal... anything else you want?)

I don't know. Depends on how loud they are. Squeaky wheel gets the grease and all.

Aw, you think I'm pretty and shiny!

"If you can't remember the last time you jumped into a puddle, it's been too long."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

It's not my fault that the school has such a poor selection. And... I don't really know what else. You can surprise me? I've never thought too much about food before, it's just something on a plate that I need to eat in order to survive. I... don't think I have a favorite food.

Hypothetically. Let's say the person was posting unsavoury things about the way you rule on the Internet.

I'm going to end up regretting using that quote, aren't I?

"Good judgement comes from experience, and experience - well that comes from poor judgement"

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Eh. We're going to figure out what you prefer eventually. Consider it a quest in self-discovery! (But, since you're letting me surprise you, is there anything you don't eat?)

Find the person and throw them in the dungeon! Mwahaha!

Yes. You very much are.

"Experience is a comb which nature gives to men when they are bald."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

You mean allergies? No I don't have any. I am a vegetarian, though. So if it's not too much of a bother, nothing with meat, please.

"Men are allowed to go bald and have a beer gut and women aren't. That's inequality right there."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

YOU'RE A VEGETARIAN?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

... Yes?

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Okay, nothing with meat then. *puts away sausage*

Men are so not allowed to go bald and have a beer gut! Well, I'm not. And my dad isn't. My dad still has fantastic hair and is totally vain about. Still really fit too... Mom would not be happy if he let himself go. So I'm not allowed to either. What kind of guy would I be if I didn't take care of myself?

"I'm getting too old to drop it like it's hot, so I'm going to squat like it's warm."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I'd allow you.

"It's not what you look at that matters. It's what you see."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Really? Aw, you're so nice Rose. But I think you'd like me better with hair and in shape. I like me better with hair and in shape.

"Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won't expect it back."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Don't take this the wrong way, Curly, but your looks are the last reason I like you.

"The problem with opinions is that even idiots are allowed to have them."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Oh, so you like me for my winning personality, huh? Aren't I supposed to be saying all the sweet stuff?

"Few girls are as well shaped as a good horse." What does this one even MEAN?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I'm not saying 'sweet stuff'. I am merely stating facts.

It means that horses are majestic and girls are unattractive.

"You are such a good friend that if we were on a sinking ship together and there was only one life jacket... I'd miss you heaps and think of you often."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Nevermind, you're obviously oblivious.

Oh. Well, I agree with horses being majestic, but not so much with the girls being unattractive bit.

"I was floating in a peaceful sea, rescued by a sinking ship."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Half of that text doesn't make sense. What do you mean, I'm 'obviously oblivious'? Oblivious about what?

And that quote makes no sense either.

"What happens if you get scared half to death twice?"

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

It's cute that you're oblivious, so I'm not telling you.

Of course not! That's why I liked it.

You have been scared three-fourths of the way to death.

"Old people always poke me at weddings and say "You're next." So I started doing the same thing to them at funerals."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

You're not being fair. Tell me!

This one reminds me of you:

"I get enough exercise just pushing my luck."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Nah. It's too much fun, you not getting it.

Well, I have a lot of luck to push, so of course I get a lot of exercise doing it.

"I throw fertilizer at stupid people in the hopes that they'll grow." This sounds like a very Larry saying.

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Now this is going to bug me. What am I oblivious about, just tell me!

I'll take it that you'll never get a beer gut then. Though if you keep pushing it with the margaritas, that luck might just run dry.

He would say that, wouldn't he? Larry cracks me up sometimes. I like his dry humour.

"Knowledge is power, and power corrupts. So study hard and be evil."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Well, if you really want to know, you'll probably have to show this conversation to someone and ask them. Because I'm not telling.

You're never gonna let me live the margarita incident down, are you?

We should put that on a T-shirt and make him wear it. He might actually love it.

"May the forces of evil get lost and confused on the way to your house."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Wait, so I'm missing something about this particular conversation? It's not a general thing I'm not getting? ... Wait. Is this about slang again, like when Larry used the word "salty"? Did I misinterpret a word somewhere?

You went  _streaking_ , Curly. A lot of people aren't going to live that down anytime soon.

Good idea. I was thinking of getting him something for Christmas anyway.

"I stopped fighting my inner demons. We're on the same side now."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

It's too funny. I can't be the one to tell you. But it's not just one word.

I could have sworn I had at least something on... I didn't go completely naked, did I?

Aw, man, I kind of forgot about Christmas...

"When you do not have wisdom, the only thing you can do is love wisdom. I.e., be a philosopher."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Fine then, I'll show it to Larry over tea and ask him.

Wouldn't know, I put a hand over my eyes when the shirt went off.

"A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip."

... If this is true, I feel like you are an excellent diplomat already.

Are you going home for Christmas?

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Yes, yes, show Larry! Bring something else and record his reaction too. I have to see that.

Well, I guess it's good you weren't subjected to the sight of my naked ass... Not that it's not a nice naked ass, but you're much too innocent.

Why thank you! I'm sure you'll have my level of skill in a few more years.

Home for Christmas? I hadn't thought about it. Probably will leave the school, but not sure if I'd spend the holiday at home or at Larry's or Moe's. Or they might spend it with me in Corona.

"Please note: Christmas is cancelled. Apparently YOU told Santa you had been GOOD this year and he died laughing."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I'll be going back to Oloria for the holidays. Do you want me to bring you something from there?

...I feel like that quote should have been my line.

"I just stole Santa's Naughty List. Ironically, it's almost identical to my friends list."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Sure! You want anything from Corona? We make great floating lanterns.

I got it first! Oh, but that one's good... true for both of us, wouldn't you say?

"We all have that friend that acts innocent, but understands all the dirty jokes."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Oloria borders on the sea, so we have all sorts of things made out of shells, pearls and other sea-fairing trinkets. I remember seeing a boy with a pirate hat once. That seems like something you might like.

I don't know what I would do with a floating lanterns. I'm not even sure I know what that is.

... Did you just tell me that I have a dirty mind? I would say that that quote applies way more to  _you_ , especially after that Moe comment you made. That was really mean of you.

"Good friends don't let you do stupid things... alone."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

*solemnly* I would love a pirate hat.

They're lanterns. That float in the air after you light them. Very pretty. We also make excellent frying pans - great for offense and defense.

Well, if the shoe fits... (I really did misinterpret that look. I really did! Maybe my mind was just in the gutter...)

"When I die, I want my tombstone to offer free Wi-Fi, just so people will visit more often."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

A lantern that... flies? How does it do that? Is it enchanted? Though I think the frying pan is more your territory.

If the shoe... fits? Is this more slang? Can I buy a book on this subject somewhere? People insist on using it.

"Here lies my wife, much lamented; at last she is silent and I am contented"

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Our horses are ridiculously intelligent, too. One babysitted me once when I was a kid, and that horse was more effective than a horde of nannies at keeping me out of trouble.

If you don't get that one, maybe you do need a book on idioms and phrases... I'll look for one.

"When I said 'I do' I didn't mean laundry."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

You were... babysat by a  _horse_? Is everything in your Kingdom as weird as you are?

I was never allowed near horses. Rogers (my Dad's adviser, he was also sort of  _my_ babysitter) was terrified they might throw or kick me.

"Whoever invented marriage was creepy as hell. Like, hey you, I love you so much I'm gonna get the government involved so you can't leave."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Well, I am a product of the collective influence of everyone living in and around the castle... I liked Max better when he was teaching me to ride than when he was babysitting me though. That was way more fun.

You should meet Max! Or just about any horse from Corona. Max loves princesses - he only throws or kicks criminals. Dad has some stories about when they met... hilarious.

"I always arrive late at the office but I make up for it by leaving early."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Erm... coming to Andover is actually the very first time I've left Oloria. With the political climate as heated as it is right now... I don't think I'll be allowed to travel abroad. I suppose I could buy a horse from Corona though. Andover has stables, I think. But still, I don't know how to ride. And it is a bit dangerous, what if I break something?

"It's true hard work never killed anybody, but I figure, why take the chance?"

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Really? Hm...

Max nabbed me and put me back on his back every time I started to fall off when he was teaching me to ride. A Corona horse is the best teacher when it comes to learning to ride a horse. I'll see if Mom and Dad can send a few to the school - maybe even Max.

"If you don't think horses know how to count, put three carrots in your pocket and only give him two."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I might try it, but I make no promises.

"Screw you  _and_ the horse you rode in on! ... No, wait, the horse is cool."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

I can work with that.

Trust me, the horse is ALWAYS cool.

"Step aside, coffee. This is a job for alcohol."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I didn't know you were this equastrian-inclined.

"I haven't had my coffee yet, so please don't make me kill you. It'll mess up my pretty dress."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Kind of have to be, growing up with Max around. Also like chameleons - my mom's best friend/pet is one named Pascal.

"Always dress like you're going to see your worst enemy." So... in full battle gear?

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

I never had any pets. My parents (and Rogers) were afraid I might be allergic, or that an animal might bite me and give me rabies or some other disease. I've always wanted to have a pet, though... Something fluffy. Like a rabbit. Maybe I can convince my parents that I'm old enough?

A knight in shining armor and a princess in scuba gear. We'll make quite the pair. Perhaps next Halloween? Though I will  _definitely_ stay home next year. Maybe I'll just read a book in my scuba suit.

"I intend to live forever. So far, so good."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

...I'm getting you a rabbit. I'm going to see if we have really smart bunnies in Corona. A smart pet will be good to you if you're good to it.

Scuba gear? XD Sure, we can do that. Three Knights and a princess in scuba gear, sitting around reading. Maybe we could pass out candy to kids?

"The best thing about being single is sleeping around. You can sleep all over that bed of yours. Left, right, middle, wherever."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

You don't have to; I was just thinking outloud. Where would I even keep a rabbit?

The three of you as Knights is something I would very much like to see. Especially Moe. He's a lot braver than one would think just by looking at him. And Larry would make a very dashing Knight. Though I feel like you'd find some way to hurt yourself even with a fake sword.

"Single (noun). A man that makes jokes about women in the kitchen."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

That's possibly a good point... besides, best not to give pets as gifts.

Oh, I wouldn't bother with a fake sword! I'd just carry around a frying pan from home. Much better than a sword.

"Life is too short not to do a little practical joking."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Yes. Please stop trying to turn me into a zookeeper.

I laughed at that more than I should have. A frying pan is the most Curly-ish weapon in existence.

"Last year I asked Santa for the sexiest person alive... I woke up in a box."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

But you'd make a great zookeeper! You're kind, I bet you're generous when you want to be, and if you got around animals, they'd love you!

It runs in the family. My mom kicks ass with a frying pan. So does Max. Though Max is excellent with a sword as well.

"They say nobody's perfect but I'm so close it scares me."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Thank you for trying to give me a compliment, but you have zero basis for it. I've never been around animals, so for all I know, they might hate me.

Ah. So you take after your mother? Interesting. I thought you'd be more like your dad. You know, since he was a rogue and all.

"Perfect has seven letters, and so does 'meeeeee'. Coincidence? I think not."

* * *

Text:  **Curly**

Animals recognize good souls.

...so maybe you're right.

I'd say I'm a good blend of the two. Dad's charm, Mom's good looks, both their hearts... definitely got my humility from Dad.

"Dogs have owners. Cats have staff."

* * *

Text:  **Rose**

Hm, animals must avoid  _you_ like the plague then.

I don't think I'm like either of my parents. Dad taught me a few things with a bow, but I'm not really into hunting like he is. Mom was a bit disappointed when I didn't show a talent for dancing like she had, and once I heard the servants say how it was odd a person as kind as her could have a child this cold. So I suppose I'm... not like either of them.

Maybe, but cats are a million times more adorable.

By the way, if you were an animal, you would so be a Golden Retriever.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

03:06 AM

Incoming call from  **Rose**

* * *

"Meh?" Curly groaned, rolling over and blindly reaching for the buzzing annoyance of his phone. He flinched from the light it cast into his eyes, squinting through the brightness to see the name that appeared on his screen.

Sleepy and confused, a frown worked its way into his voice as he stabbed his finger at the answer icon and spoke. "Rose? Do you realize what time it is?"

* * *

Rose's hand was shaking as she held the phone to her cheek, but she barely noticed.

She let out a sigh of relief. "Curly." Hearing his voice made the tight lump in her throat loosen a bit. She swallowed thickly. "I... no, I didn't check. I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

* * *

The not-quite static-y sound of breathing on the other end reassured Curly that this wasn't a "butt-dial" - not that he really thought Rose was clumsy enough to accidentally call him at three A.M. - even before she said his name.

Something about her voice made him hesitate to actually tell her what time it was, and instead, he ignored the question to ask one of his own. "It's fine. Everything okay?"

He rolled over, pulling the covers over his head to muffle the sound of his voice so as not to wake his roommates, and shifted around, trying to get comfortable again - on the optimistic thought that this was going to be something small enough to handle over the phone.

He didn't really believe that optimistic part of himself at the moment.

* * *

Rose ran a hand through her hair and tried to sound normal. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I just wanted to... I just had a bad dream, that's all. It's nothing to be worried about. Go back to sleep."

* * *

"It's not nothing if you called me, Rose," Curly argued, his voice rough with sleep but his tone still gentle - or at least, he hoped it was gentle.

The words "bad dream" echoed in his head, waking him further - nothing drew Curly out of sleep more thoroughly than the smell of cooking food or a friend in need. This was no exception.

"You want to tell me about it?"

* * *

Rose straightened her posture unwittingly, even though he had no way of seeing it. "It's fine, really. It wasn't real, obviously. I'm sorry to have called, I'm not sure why I did. I suppose I wasn't thinking straight. Get some sleep."

With that, Rose withdrew the phone from her ear and hung up. Then she took a deep breath. From now on, she decided, her phone would be on the desk instead of next to her head. Perhaps then she'd have enough time to realise that dreams were just dreams and not dial people's numbers in the middle of the night. This was so not how a princess should act!

Getting up, Rose walked over to the desk and put the phone on mute. There. Now even if Curly tried to call back, she wouldn't know until morning. She returned to her bed, quite unwillingly, and laid back down. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind right now, but she had to try.

* * *

03:11 AM

Incoming call from  **Curly**

* * *

03:12 AM

Incoming call from  **Curly**

* * *

03:13 AM

Incoming call from  **Curly**

* * *

Text from: **Curly**

I'm coming over.

* * *

-O-

Grumbling to himself, Curly readjusted the mound of blankets and pillows in his arms and raised a fist, rapping his knuckles sharply on Rose's door.

"Call me in the middle of the night and tell me you had a bad dream and then hang up on me..." he muttered. Rose obviously didn't know him well enough at this point to realize that was as good as an invitation to the prince of Corona. No, not an invitation - a cry for help. Which amounted to the same thing, since they both got Curly out of his warm, comfy bed to walk all the way across the building to Rose's room.

And knock on her door. And wait for her to answer it for about half a second before impatience overcame him and he tried the knob - locked, of course (at least Rose had sense) - and knocked again. "Rose? Let me in."

His friends did not call him at three in the morning and not get a personal visit to make sure they were okay. Not when said friends hung up the freaking phone on him.

* * *

The sharp knock made Rose sit up in the bed. She stared unseeingly into the darkness, unsure whether she had imagined it or not. Did she fall asleep again without even realising it?

But then the sound repeated, cementing the reality as a waking one. She just stood there, a wave of fear washing over her. It was the middle of the night.

The answer came before she could even ask herself the question.

"Curly?" Rose mumbled, slipping out of bed. That was his voice, wasn't it? Was he that crazy?!

She neared the door cautiously, tying her hair in a high ponytail as she went. Grabbing the key from the desk, Rose unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Even though her pink pajamas had long sleeves and legs, she still felt a bit uncomfortable being seen in them.

Upon laying eyes on the boy waiting outside, her jaw almost slacked. "Curly?" Was this a dream after all? Rose had to resist the urge to pinch herself. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!" Then her eyes fell on the pillow and covers he was carrying. Okay, this was too ridiculous to be real.

* * *

Curly didn't wait for Rose to give him the 'O.K.' to come in - he slipped by her as soon as the door was open enough to do so. She probably wouldn't be happy about it, he was awake enough to know that, but she was the one who called him in the middle of the night and then not tell him what was wrong.

"You wouldn't answer your phone," he said, taking a brief look around her room before depositing his bedding on the floor at the foot of her bed. "So I came over to check on you." 'Boundaries' were something Curly had never quite been able to grasp well enough to always know when he was crossing them. When it came to people he considered his friends, 'boundaries' kind of wound up going out the window. Rose, possibly unfortunately for her, was now on that short list.

He looked her over with a critical eye, arms crossed - she looked like she was alright, aside from the faint bags that seemed to be developing under her eyes, and the dumb-founded expression on her face. "What was the dream about?" he asked, uncrossing his arms and plopping down on the floor on top of his bedding. Rose's room wasn't precisely chilly, but wearing the T-shirt and shorts he normally did to bed, and having just been snugged cozily in warm covers, he felt the need to pull his blankets up around his shoulders, wrapping himself up as he waited for Rose to answer him.

* * *

Too stupefied to actually react on time, Rose just watched him barge in. When he mentioned her phone, she finally snapped out of it enough to cast a glance at her desk. His name was gleaming from the screen, along with a little red icon notifying her of multiple missed calls.

"I didn't think—" she started, not sure how to continue, and took the phone in her hands. "It was just a dream, I'm fine. I'm not a child, I can tell the difference between shadows and monsters, and I don't need someone to—" Then he just dumped the covers on the ground and her train of thought derailed. "What are you doing?" she demanded, remembering that  _there was a boy in her room at 3 AM_. "You can't  _be_ here! Go back to your dorm!"

* * *

Settling himself more comfortably on his nest of blankets and tugging the one around his shoulders into a better position, Curly shook his head. "If it was just a dream, you wouldn't have called me," he said matter-of-factly.

There was something about the way she demanded he go back to his room that struck Curly as... funny. Really funny. He was too tired to really figure out  _why_  though. It just made him grin, for whatever reason. "Isn't it obvious?" Of course it was - he'd brought pillows and blankets and made himself a bed of them on the floor. "Not a chance - I'm not going back until you tell me what your dream was and why it bothered you so much that you called me at three in the morning."

This actually wasn't the first time Curly had shown up at one of his friends' door in the wee hours of the night. But it was the first time that friend was a girl. He didn't think that made much of a difference though. "If you don't want to talk about it, I'll just sleep in here to make sure you don't have another one."

* * *

Rose huffed and crossed her arms. "Alright, genius, and how is this plan of yours supposed to work? You can't go into the dream with me, so how would you prevent it from being a bad one? Not to mention that the chances of the same nightmare repeating in one night are  _astronomical_."

Not only was his plan utterly ludicrous, but Rose could not allow a boy to spend the night in her dorm room, even if that boy was Curly. "I am not telling you about my nightmares, and you are  _not_ sleeping here! This is beyond improper, not to mention that you and I happen to be  _royal heirs_! Do you have any idea what sort of rumours might spread if anyone caught wind of this? Now go, before someone overhears us! We can talk about this in the morning." Or not. Actually, she hoped that he might forget about it, though it didn't seem very likely.

Rose gestured to the door, too afraid that someone might walk by to actually open it and hold it like that for him to leave.

* * *

It was because he was sleepy. Curly knew that. But an angry Rose was kind of adorable. He tried not to laugh at the look on her face and the way she crossed her arms as she poked holes in his plan, shrugging and pulling his knees up so he could hide his smile behind them and the blanket.

"I wake you up if I hear you making noise. Also," he held up a finger, poking it out of his blanket shroud, "this way, if you wake up from another nightmare, I'm already here. You won't be calling me, waking me up, hanging up on me and not telling me why you were so freaked out by your nightmare." A little bit of... not exactly irritation, but perhaps chiding, entered his tone on the last sentence.

"I'm not going anywhere." There wasn't a trace of humor in his voice now - mostly, he felt exasperated. "I'm here, I'm not dragging my stuff back to my dorm and risking waking up Larry and Moe. If you don't want to talk about it now, you can get back in bed and we can just go to sleep." The 'rumors' part of her argument was so ridiculous to Curly that he almost didn't respond to it.

In fact, he actually laid down and nearly got comfortable before sitting up again to address it, exasperation definitely clear in his voice this time. "One, the idea that anyone would care enough about me sleeping in your room to start a  _rumor_  is outrageous - half of this school is sleeping together - and two, no one saw me come in here. The only two people besides me and you that might know I'm here at all are Larry and Moe, and they're not gossipers."

At that, he flopped back down, wincing slightly when his shoulder collided with the floor through a thin spot in his blanket mattress, and closed his eyes. "If you're not comfortable with the idea of  _me_  - a guy - in your room specifically, pretend I'm a dog or something."

* * *

Why,  _oh why_ did she call him in the first place?!

Rose let out an exasperated sigh and lifted one hand to make an oath. "I solemnly swear that I will not call you, wake you up, hang up or tell you anything. I'm sorry about it, okay? If I hadn't been so—" Her mouth clamped shut and her hands balled into fists, but she hoped that he wouldn't notice. "I mean, if I had been in my right mind, I would have realised it was not really happening. And since I am now awake and can clearly tell between illusions and reality, there is no actual need for you to stay. What happened, happened. Now will you please  _leave_?"

His argument about Moe and Larry did hold a bit of water though. Enough to make her pause.

"And what would they say if they woke up in the middle of the night and found your bed empty?" she countered. "Don't you think that would freak them out more than you just returning as quietly as possible and hopefully forgetting I contacted you at all tonight?" The dog comment almost made her laugh, but she kept it in. "When I said that you'd be a Golden Retriever if you were an animal, I didn't mean that I  _literally_ think of you as a dog! And regardless if anyone saw you or not, they might see you in the morning, not to mention that it's still incredibly improper! Just go back to your own bed!" Rose insisted hotly, and stomped her foot unwittingly. Childish, yes, but she couldn't bring herself to care right about now.

* * *

"I'm  _not_ leaving." Curly could be more stubborn than a mule sometimes. Especially when he believed he was doing the right thing. Add in a little aggravation that Rose was being as stubborn as he was, and it just made the trait flare up worse.

"I left a note saying you had a bad dream and I was going to check on you." Literally. That was pretty much the exact words he had written. Before taping the missive to Moe's computer screen and a copy to the book he knew Larry was reading. "So they won't be worried about me. They  _will_ , however, be worried about  _you_  and bother  _you_  about your bad dream in the morning unless I reassure them that we already worked it out. Which, we haven't, so why don't you sit down and tell me why it worried you so badly that you had to call me?" If she thought he hadn't caught the way she'd cut herself off, she was overestimating his sleepiness or underestimating his skills of observation.

He reached out, patting the foot of her bed to indicate where she ought to sit, failing to stifle - in any capacity - the laugh that bubbled up when she stomped her foot. "Did you just stomp your foot? Rose. C'mon." He kept laughing, crossing an arm over his stomach as he shook. "That's so... princess-y. And silly." And kind of cute, but he wasn't going to say that. He blamed his tiredness for having the thought at all.

"Will you just sit down and talk to me? Or go to sleep? Sleep is a good option too." A slightly begging note entered his voice, leaving with the next sentence. "Because I'm  _not_  leaving. I'm here. If you're worried about the morning, no one is going to see me then either - Dad was a thief, remember? I'm good at sneaking around."

* * *

Larry wouldn't bother her. He would just assume she'd had another tunnel dream, but he was the only one who knew about those. And Moe wouldn't bother her, because he was too shy to. So she was not about to give in to Curly either! But… she knew she had no hope in hell of physically removing him. And he didn't seem like he was going to budge.

Her face turned red when he started laughing, partly because it really  _was_ silly, partly because she was embarrassed. However… there was something about the way Curly laughed. Something so… joyful. Sincere. Despite her best efforts, Rose could feel a smile creeping on her face.

Knowing that if she erupted in laughter too she would lose any poise she had managed to maintain, the young princess concentrated on the annoyance of his stubbornness.

"I—! You—!  _Fine!_ " she exclaimed incredulously and walked over to the bed, deliberately sitting as far away as possible from the spot he had indicated, crossing her arms again and facing away from him. "I'm not telling you anything, you marauder! If you want to sleep so badly – go to sleep then! I hope the floor gives you bruises!"

* * *

Curly knew he had her when he caught the edge of a smile slipping onto her face, just a faint quirk of a lip, before she snapped at him and huffily got onto her bed. His laughter died down to chuckles, but he couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he listened to the princess vent her frustrations at him.

Rose was really funny when she was mad. He should take her anger seriously, but for some reason, he just... couldn't. It just made him want to laugh some more.

"As you wish, my lady," he said, doing his best to bow dramatically from his seated position on the floor before he adjusted his blanket bed and laid down again. "We'll talk about your dream in the morning before I sneak out."

A couple of wiggles proved he hadn't brought enough blankets to combat the hardness of Rose's wood floor, and he sat up to look at her once more. "Got some extra pillows?" He almost hoped she threw them at him - it would give him more fuel for his amusement over her pique. Part of it had to be tiredness. He didn't find anyone else this funny when they were mad.

* * *

Rose had only one pillow but did not hesitate to grab it and throw it at his head. Stupid Curly and his stupid, stubborn idiocy!

"We won't talk about anything!" she muttered angrily and laid down, throwing the covers over herself and again turning her back to Curly. If he said anything more, she completely ignored him.

The angry princess fumed for a while, but the emotion seemed to exhaust her quickly – not that it took so much these days. Soon she found herself slipping once more… into…

_She was so close._

_Just a few more steps – she could feel it in her very bones. The darkness in the tunnel seemed endless, but Rose knew she would reach the chasm soon... the mysterious voice was already whispering in her ear._

_Then she heard something else. A strange sort of... creaking. The stone walls around her came to an end, and the princess found herself surrounded by trees. A beam of bright light swung somewhere in front of her, and someone screamed. The sound shot a spark of electricity through her, and she ran forward, her movements slow and arduous as if she was trying to cross a river of thick, sticky molasses. She ran and ran, but the light didn't seem to be getting any closer. Shadowy silhouettes waved through the air, like tentacles of an angry sea monster, and a green-clad figure could be seen struggling with a big hairy... spider._

_Fear shot through Rose, and suddenly she found herself right next to the battle. The Acromantula seemed preoccupied with the long roots protruding from the ground, and she looked to the blood-soaked person at her feet._

_Her heart stopped._

_"Curly!"_

_Forgetting monsters, creaking, and tunnels, Rose sank to the ground and, ignoring the disgust building in her stomach, pressed her hands to the wound across his abdomen. She could feel his very life escape between her fingers, but it only made her hold on tighter. Tears stung her eyes, though there was something else, some spark right at the pit of her stomach. Defiance. It grew and grew, like a living flame, and consumed her completely, until all she could think about was that feeling, and the loud, resounding **NO** that kept looping in her head._

_"You can't die, Curly! Do you hear me?! I won't let you!"_

_He smiled weakly. "I'm not your subject remember? You can't tell me what to do." A wheezing laugh escaped his lips, interrupted by a violent cough. A bit of blood splattered his mouth._

_Scarlet was oozing from under her hands, and Rose desperately tried to keep it down, pressing onto his torso as if she could will the wound to knit itself. But it didn't._

Rose shot up in her bed, panting heavily and shaking like a leaf. The room was still dark. Her thoughts were a mangled mess, her heart was about to jump right out of her chest, and the only thing she was aware of was the heavy, crushing despair, and the fact that Curly had just died.

* * *

Curly barely resisted an outright laugh as he caught the pillow just before it smacked him in the face. Instead he shook his head, smiling, and laid down with one last parting shot. "Good night, Rose."

Despite the discomfort of the hardwood floor, it took no time at all for the prince to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, it also seemed like almost no time had passed when something woke him up again. His mind couldn't pinpoint what had roused him, but it had no trouble with remembering where he was or why he was there.

So the first thing he did when he woke was to jerk into an almost sitting position, eyes still too heavy to open, and say, voice mumbled with sleep, "Rose?"

He tried - and failed - to open his eyes, though he was unaware of just how slurred his words were. "You 'kay?"

* * *

_He was dead._

Rose's breaths became more rapid, shallow. A small part of her brain noted that she was hyperventilating, but she couldn't hear, feel or comprehend anything other than her own hammering heartbeat.

The tunnel dream – which was unusually vivid as a rule – had made its appearance, just like every other night, and had somehow mixed in with her own worries and fears. It would normally take no more than a few disorienting seconds for Rose to come back to her senses, but not this time. In her confused mind, it was all still very much… real.

She could feel something wet on her hand, and when she raised the darkness of the room made it seem like she could still see the crimson stains. She stared at it in horror as it shook violently. Her whole body shuddered. Her vision blurred. Her chest hurt. She couldn't breathe.

_Curly was dead._

* * *

"Rose?" Curly said again when she didn't answer, his mind rapidly clearing the confusion of sleep. Normally, he would have just assumed she was asleep and something else had woken him up, but some part of his brain - quicker than the portion that was fogged from unconsciousness - recognized that the breathing coming from the bed above him was  _not_  that of a peacefully sleeping individual.

He pushed his blankets back and sat fully upright, forcing his heavy lids open and peering through the darkness of Rose's room to where he had last seen her, laying down with a huff of irritation. It took half-a-second for his eyes to focus on her form, no longer a lumpy shadow under her covers but a blob, clearly sitting up.

And just as clearly in distress, even if he couldn't make out her features - her breathing was much too fast, and when he reached out to put a hand on the bed, he could feel her trembling even through the mattress.

Curly scrambled out of his make-shift bed and around the bed, not-quite blindly reaching for the lamp he knew was on Rose's bedside table. It felt like an eternity before he managed to find the switch and click it on, but his eyes refused to leave his friend's shadow to make the effort quicker.

What the light revealed did nothing to dull the sharp anxiety he had felt since she didn't respond. Her trembling was easily visible now, between the almost hiccuping motions of her too-fast breathing, and though right at that moment Curly couldn't see her face, he was sure he would find it in tears.

"Rose!" The prince clambered onto the princess's bed, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands, heedless of his usual hesitation to invade her space. "Rose, it's okay. It was just a nightmare. I'm right here - you're okay."

* * *

The lights came to life next to her bed, but Rose barely registered them. Then the mattress dipped under her, and she finally heard a voice. Then felt a touch.

Still in that delirious state between awake and asleep, Rose lifted her wide, frightened eyes to meet Curly's, and recognition finally dawned in them. Her hand shot forward, not caring about decorum or propriety, and pressed against his stomach, frantically searching for a nonexistent wound.

"You're okay," she breathed when warm blood did not colour his t-shirt.

The confusion slowly began to clear. Her thoughts started flowing more smoothly, and logic began to sink in. There was no possible way Curly could have gotten hurt; he was right there when she fell asleep.  _Larry_ was the one who got bitten by the spider, but he was fine now. Curly was okay. He was here. He wasn't dead. It was a dream. Just a dream.

"You're okay," Rose whispered again, more sober this time, relief flooding her entire being. Her shoulders sagged visibly, and she suddenly felt completely drained. A sigh of relief escaped the shivering girl, and her head leaned forward until it was resting on his shoulder. "You're okay," she repeated one last time, her fingers tightening into a fist, crumpling the t-shirt's fabric.

* * *

The suddenness with which Rose reacted to him - the feel of her hand on his stomach - made Curly jump, surprise that she would initiate contact flashing across his features before he felt confusion settle over them.

"I'm okay?" he repeated, uncertainty mixing with his desire to reassure her of whatever fear her nightmare had caused. It was a little hard to think through the shock that Rose was actually touching him though - of her own free will and not because he needed saving, the utter lack of any of her usual consideration for decorum and what was considered appropriate stalling his brain.

But eventually, as her head fell to rest on his shoulder and her hand made a first in his T-shirt, Curly started to catch up with what had just happened. Her nightmare wasn't really about her - and now it made so much more sense that she had called  _him_ at three A.M. "I'm okay," he said, voice confident this time, though when he lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders, the gesture was still hesitant.

"We're okay." She hadn't told him the details, but Curly was quick enough - once he was over his surprise - to put two and two together to come up with four. Whatever happened in Rose's nightmare,  _he_ had been the one she was concerned about. Though he probably could have taken it as a sign that the princess cared about him a lot, the feeling that came with the realization was instead a fierce gladness over the fact that he hadn't let her phone call slide.

She had needed him, and he was here for her.

* * *

Warm.

It was warm. Rose felt like she had been out in a chilly storm for hours and had just entered in a cozy room with a lit fireplace. The sensation calmed her, her heartbeat slowly stabilized. She breathed in deeper, slower.

A small part of her brain, way in the back, was outraged at the proximity to which she had allowed him, and the fact that, though she knew she shouldn't, Rose had found something like  _safety_  in that hug. She wasn't supposed to. She knew that. Wasn't supposed to rely on others to make her feel better, wasn't supposed to let herself be protected. And yet, that was exactly how she felt. Like it would all be okay. Curly somehow made her feel like a child again, and though normally she would shy away from physical contact, she found, quite surprisingly, that she didn't want to move at all.

She knew she'd have to pull away soon, but now that she  _had_ touched him, letting go was harder than anticipated.

"You're allowed to go bald," Rose muttered into his shoulder, somehow relaxing against him. "And you're allowed to get a beer gut, and to be completely out of shape. But you are not allowed to die." Her fist tightened. "Okay? No matter what happens, you can't die. I forbid you."

It had all just been so… real. Even after she had woken up, she still felt his blood on her hand. But how was that possible? She flexed fer fingers – they felt completely dry. Rose turned her head slightly and raised said hand, but in the light of the lamp could clearly see that it was clean. Reassured that it must have been just a trick of her tired brain, she gently placed it on his back instead, closing her eyes.

She had to let go. And she would. In a minute.

* * *

The more Rose relaxed, the more Curly felt that he had done  _exactly_ the right thing, and the impression eased something he wasn't quite aware had been wound tight inside him. As her breathing slowed, her tension dissipating, he lifted his other arm and wrapped it around her, holding her in a way that might not have been entirely  _comfortable_ or  _easy_ but was somehow infinitely  _comforting_ all the same.

If he pulled her into his lap, he knew that holding her like this would be simpler, but Curly didn't think, even in their current situation, that Rose would appreciate the gesture. A part of him still wanted to do it, if only to be able to wrap himself around her, a living shield, though it made no sense when the fear and distress came from something within her own mind. Hugging her, offering the physical reminder of his presence and their continued safety, might be enough to calm her, but he'd never been able to stop himself from wanting to do the absolute most he could do to help his friends.

He found himself resting his cheek on the top of her head, listening to her breath, as a little sliver of awareness that came from his magic told him her heart was no longer racing but beating steadily. That was when she spoke again, and what Rose said was so unexpected, that for several seconds the prince had no idea how to respond. He wanted to laugh, to make a joke about the words as he would have – and had – done earlier, when they were simply text on a screen, but somehow that didn't seem appropriate. Dozens of flippant responses – ranging from "I'm not your subject so you can't tell me what to do," to "Guess that means I've got to be immortal then" – flashed through his mind, but not a single one came close to making it to the tip of his tongue.

The thought tickled at the edge of his awareness that he should probably tell her what he had meant in that earlier conversation, the way her statements edged on something that might be called flirting, but it wasn't the time for such a discussion. Not here, not now.

In the end, Curly simply tightened his arms around her, turned his face to press his lips against her hair, and closed his eyes. "Okay," he said. Because it was the only right thing to say.

* * *

It was just one simple word, but it somehow, impossibly, irrationally, made her feel so much better. Rose let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, and her hand let go of his t-shirt, coiling around him. "Good."

The fleeting thought that the last time she willingly hugged someone was when she was seven years old skittered across her mind, but his arms tightened around her and it completely faded away. That small voice of her conscience kept buzzing in her ear about how she should let go already, how this was not proper behaviour, but the sound of his breath in her hair and the mild thumping of his pulse, which she could feel against his neck, mostly drowned it out.

As a few moments passed, Rose was able to go over the events of the night more objectively, and felt more and more embarrassed with every single second.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have called you tonight. I feel so silly now… To think I even stomped my foot…" Rose shook her head, resulting in a slight nuzzle. "I didn't want you to see me panic like this. It just needed to sink in that it didn't really happen, that's all. There was no need for you to come here." Or to stay all night. Rose had been a bit out of it when she dialled his number, but all she wanted was to make sure he was in his room and not getting hurt on one of his misadventures. He'd said it himself – he was in life-threatening situations more often than most. Her embrace tightened slightly to remind herself that he wasn't in one right now. "It won't happen again. I promise."

She was fine. Really. This wasn't that big of a deal.

* * *

The longer the silence stretched, the more relaxed Curran felt. It wasn't like he could go back to sleep in this position, but it didn't bother him in the least to hold Rose like this and just... breathe. On some level, his mind still buzzed with curiosity over her nightmare - because let's face it, a mind like Curly's was never truly still - but most of him was content to let things be. He had said what needed to be said. The next words would be Rose's.

The combination of her hair tickling his skin when she shook her head and the memory of her stomping her foot almost made him chuckle, but he held himself back to just a smile, waiting for the princess to stop spouting nonsense before he gave her his two cents again.

"One: if you apologize for calling me again, or say you shouldn't have done it one more time, I'm pinching your nose," Curly said, completely serious about the threat despite the gentle teasing in his voice. He was utterly certain that such a punishment would combine silliness and immaturity well enough that it would thoroughly discombobulate and embarrass Rose, whether she thought he would do it or not. Given his tone, she probably wouldn't take him seriously but... well, maybe that was half of what made it a good threat against Rose. It would surprise her.

"Two, if you need me - for  _anything_  - no matter what time of day or night, I'm here for you, Rose. Whether it's a bug or a nightmare or even homework, I  _want_  you to call me. What else are friends for, if you can't call them because you had a bad dream?" His voice had gone soft and he felt... strangely like he was pleading with her. Trying to make her understand something he wasn't sure someone like Rose, Princess of Oloria,  _could_  understand. But maybe Rose - just Rose, the person and his friend - would get it.

"It's okay to lean on your friends." She didn't have to shoulder this on her own.

* * *

The last thing Rose wanted to do was pull away, but pull away she did.

"And I appreciate all of that – I really do," she said, shuffling back a little to get some space between them, then moved around a bit and bent her legs under her so she could sit properly. Suddenly the chill of the room was a lot more noticeable. "And if I actually needed help with something, you'd be the first person I would call. But dreams?  _Bugs?_ " She gave him a sceptical look as if to say  _'You can't be serious',_  and finally fully registered that he was wearing only a thin t-shirt.

"Honestly," she sighed, taking the covers and draping them over his shoulders. "Who just walks across half the building in a t-shirt at this time of year?" she scolded him lightly, drawing them closed at the front and adjusting them around his neck. Rose didn't know if Curly could even  _get_ sick, but he could definitely feel cold. "Reassuring your friends that you're alright over the phone – fine. Doing  _this_?" She shook her head. "There is such a thing as overdoing it." Couldn't he have at least thrown on a jacket? Though, in hindsight, she should have known – Curly  _always_ overdid it when it came to helping.

With her hands still clutching the covers to keep them closed, she looked at him and said, "Now listen. If I called you every time I had a bad dream, you'd be in here every single night. I'm used to nightmares, really I am, that was just the first one that… the first one that I panicked over. I get that you want to help me, and that's really nice of you, but in this instance you just… can't." Despite what he said, she firmly resolved to turn her phone off before going to sleep from now on. "I'm not a wounded bird you found by the side of the road, Curly, you don't have to take care of me. It wasn't some emergency that warranted a midnight visit. Now please will you go back to your dorm? You don't have to sleep on the cold, hard floor because of this."

* * *

When she pulled away, Curly knew he hadn't said the right thing. She had taken his words more literally than he had really meant them, and he felt an almost vague sense of frustration as she wrapped him up in her blanket and chided him. The fact that the cover made him realize that his skin really  _was_  cold only seemed to add to the feeling.

He wanted to say that there was more to it than bugs and dreams, that those things weren't really the point, and grumble about the fact that if she had just told him about it over the phone, he might not have been there now (a complete lie - he would have come anyway, especially since he now knew her nightmare had been about  _him_ , most likely him  _dying_ ). Except, his mind caught up with what she was saying and his other thoughts fell off to the side as he fixed on one sentence.

"Wait, you're having bad dreams  _every_  night?" She had said a whole lot of things he felt they needed to talk about, but first, he wanted an explanation for that. Especially in light of the memory of her yawning that day in Elvish, the day she got mad and stormed out. "Has this been going on since school started?"

* * *

Of all the things he could have focused on, why did it have to be that one?

Rose's whole body stiffened at the question, and she looked away. She couldn't lie, of course, but judging by how he overreacted to one nightmare, she didn't really want to make him even more worried by admitting she'd had several. The memory of the tunnels sent a chill down her spine, and Rose felt like the temperature in the room had dropped significantly. A shiver escaped her, and though she had the urge to wrap her arms around herself protectively, the princess forced her body to be still.

With fingers tightening around the covers just a bit, Rose said, "Why does it matter? Dreams are just dreams."

* * *

Curly's eyes narrowed at the way she stiffened, shivered, and then dismissed the question. Why did she keep trying to hide things from him? "You know, you saying stuff like that and not just telling me what it is makes me think it's really bad and you just don't want to bother me with it because you think I'm going to go overboard on being a protective friend. Especially when your body language says it's something that really bothers you." It made him... surprisingly grumpy. He didn't like his friends hiding things from him. What was he good for if they would share their problems with him and let him  _help_?

"You not telling me is why I'm here in the first place," he said. "Keeping stuff from me when it's obvious there's a problem isn't going to stop me from worrying - it's only going to make it  _worse_." Moe and Larry had been quick to realize and accept this about him - why was Rose being so stubborn about it?

* * *

Rose was a bit startled at how well he'd read her mind, and it left her speechless for a second.

"So this aggravating habit of yours to invade boundaries only flares up when it's obvious?" she deadpanned. His persistence was starting to irritate her, though the corner of her mouth did curve upwards slightly.

"And as for the dreams – fine." She sighed in defeat. He wasn't going to let it go, that much was clear. "Yes, they started shortly after I arrived. It's one dream, repeating every night, and it's just me wandering down cold dark tunnels, that's it. It's very unpleasant, and I feel like…" Rose looked away again, getting a little uncomfortable about this confession. "Like I can't even remember what it felt like to feel warm anymore. There's a woman in my dream sometimes, and she asks me for help. Larry thinks it might be a real person sending these dreams to me, but I'm not truly convinced – I've never even seen that woman before."

She took a deep breath, then exhaled. It did feel kind of good to finally tell him. "There, that's that everything. Are you happy now?"

* * *

"Does this aggravating habit of you hiding things from your friends extend to all of us, or just me?" Curly didn't really  _mean_  to ask the sarcastic question, but he was frustrated. Why couldn't she just talk to him? He thought going through a life and death situation would make her realize she could trust him enough to lean on him - hell, it had worked for him, Larry and Moe - but apparently not. She may have been willing to call him when she was half out of her head after her dream, may have been willing to hug him and let him comfort her after she had it again, but she didn't want to share her problems with him when she wasn't half asleep and freaking out. That was understandably frustrating, right? He was entitled to at least one sarcastic moment, right?

"You could just tell me what's bothering you in the first place so I don't go overboard on you," he added, attempting to sound more reasonable but still feeling a bit sour. "Wait. You told Larry about your nightmares and you wouldn't tell me?" That... kind of hurt. He had kind of figured Rose would like Larry - the other prince was more along the lines of a classical prince, the way Rose was - but he had thought... well, it didn't really matter what he had thought. "Nevermind. At least you told  _somebody_.

"I'm not happy, but I'm glad you told me." Even if getting it out of her was like pulling teeth the old fashioned way. He shifted the covers off his own shoulders, tugging them out of Rose's hands in the process, so he could wrap them around her instead. "We can talk more about those nightmares later - maybe with Larry, since he has a theory." Which wasn't a terrible one, considering the fact that with magic, just about anything was possible. "And we can ask Moe to look up who has dream manipulation powers." Now would probably not the best time to tell her  _how_  Moe would be doing that.

"In the meantime... we should get back to sleep." He held up a finger and narrowed his eyes to forestall any argument - not that he actually thought that would work. "And no, I'm not going back to my dorm yet. I said I was staying the night in here and I am. Who knows if you'll dream I'm dying and need reassuring Curly hugs again?" There. He even got a genuine smile in there with that sentence - maybe it would get one out of her too.

* * *

Curly wasn't happy. That was somehow really strange. The tone of his voice, the way he spoke and looked at her, it all made her feel like she'd done something wrong. Some sort of mistake that she didn't know how to fix.

When the cover slipped from her hands as he wrapped it around her, Rose felt an odd sense of loss, like for some reason she wanted to hold on to it. Before she could really question why, the thought was quickly replaced by the need to explain why she had told Larry.

"He… asked," Rose said quietly. "I went to see him after Halloween, and it sort of slipped. It had been building up for so long… I just felt like I had to get if off my chest. And it's different with Larry."

When he so casually mentioned the dream of him dying, Rose felt like he'd slapped her right in the face. She didn't even have time to ask herself how he'd figured it out before it all flashed before her eyes again. The darkness. The blood. The helplessness. Tears immediately stung her eyes and she drew her knees close, burying her face in them. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't. Curly didn't deal well with crying.

Taking a long, shaky breath, she spoke into her knees. "Curly, do you remember on Halloween, when I told you you're my very first friend? You probably thought I was exaggerating with that… I wasn't. Even my parents are… a bit too busy for me most of the time, and back home I don't really meet many people my age that aren't stuffy visiting royalty. Before I met you, I hadn't really felt…  _close_ to anyone, and you, you're constantly in danger. Always hanging from the edge of a cliff or getting chased by monsters or doing something reckless… That's why I panicked so much tonight. I've never had a real friend before and… I'm just terrified of losing the only one I have."

That whole thing probably sounded a lot more pathetic out loud then it did in her head. Rose's heart was hammering in her chest so hard it almost hurt, so she waited a few moments in order to be sure she wouldn't break down into sobs. Then she slowly looked up, almost afraid to see his reaction.

* * *

Curly wanted, more than he probably should, to know what the words "And it's different with Larry" meant. But he didn't ask and he didn't dwell on it, nodding briefly to Rose's explanation instead. Even if it still kind of stung that Larry knew before he did.

Only, he quickly forgot about that when he registered the look on the princess's face, just before she hid it in her knees and started talking again. Then he felt like shit, like he had on Halloween, because she sounded like she was on the edge of tears again  _and it was his fault_.

He wanted to tell her it wasn't that bad - that he wasn't in danger  _that_  often - but it would barely be true. Because he  _was_ , so very often, doing something reckless. Even something as small as throwing water balloons at people could result in bodily harm (and not just because he almost fell out the window). He had just never... had someone so worried about him before. Larry and Moe, even his parents, his grandparents and the citizens of Corona, took the fact that he would be fine almost for granted. Yes, they would worry, they would scold, but they were never this...  _scared_  for him.

Somehow, Rose's fear for his life actually made him feel...  _bad_. For not being more careful with himself. Which was almost silly - he was a healer. He could fix damn near anything that happened to him. Even if he couldn't, you know, 'fix' death. And that was the problem, wasn't it? She was scared he was going to get himself killed doing these stupid things.

Curran found himself looking down and rubbing his hands together, going over his knuckles and fingers and palms with just a little bit of the warmth of the sun's magic moving through them, as he thought about what Rose meant. When he looked up again, it was to her raising her head, the expression on her face almost like a punch to the gut.

Moving more on instinct than thought, he closed the distance they'd put between them and slid under the blanket to sit beside her, wrapping it once more around his shoulders as well. With their sides touching, Curly struggled to find the words to reassure her - though he wasn't sure he could. "I don't think... that I can promise never to do something... reckless or get into dangerous situations again," he said, knowing he couldn't lie to her about it. He wouldn't. "But... I can try... harder? To keep myself safe? Not act so... stupid, I guess.

"You're not gonna lose me, okay?" Meeting her eyes, he did his best to smile reassuringly and was half-convinced it was close to perfect. "And we're gonna work on expanding your friend circle. I mean, I don't mind being your only friend," he teased, or at least tried to, "but I probably shouldn't keep you all to myself. Larry'd say I was hogging you and that's unprincely."

* * *

Rose didn't even react when his shoulder touched to hers. She didn't jump, didn't stiffen awkwardly, didn't even try to pull away. Instead, she listened to him silently, staring unseeingly at the empty space before her.

Though it was probably supposed to do the opposite, his smile only made her want to cry more. Rose wanted to explain that it wasn't about having more friends, that it wouldn't make her somehow care less if there were more people to spread it to, but instead only shook her head.

"You don't… you don't get it, Curly," she said softly, chin propped up on her knees. "When I went to see Larry, it struck me how nonchalant he was about almost dying. He wasn't scared, he said, because you and Moe were there. You can keep a person alive and pull them back from the very edge of death, but what happens when you're the one at death's door? Who pulls  _you_ back?

"You want to know what my dream was about so badly? I'll tell you. It was about me just watching you die. You were right there, and I… couldn't do a thing." She raised her right hand again and flexed it, remembering the feeling of blood all too well. "The most terrifying thing about it was just how easily it could have been true. What if the spider bit you on Halloween? What could the rest of us have done?" Although her throat was tight, she swallowed thickly and continued. "I tried so hard. I held onto you with everything I had, and yet you still just… slipped away. Do you have any idea what that's like? To hold something precious in your hands just to watch it slip right between your fingers? I couldn't do a thing to keep you, and it felt like I was going out of my mind."

No matter how hard she fought them, the tears would no longer be denied. Two wet trails slid down her face, but she was quick to wipe them away. "And now I'm crying," she said, frustrated with her own self. "I'm crying over something that didn't even happen!" She half-turned to face Curly, that same spark she'd felt in her dream flaring up somewhere in her chest. "You are  _not_ dying! Am I clear? I don't care what comes after you, I am holding you to that! And if you go back on your word, I'll… I'll… I won't let you borrow my Elvish notes anymore, and I won't speak to you for at least a month!"

Though her voice was a bit scratchy, her tone was utterly determined. If she couldn't stop that dream from coming to pass, he would have to. Because that fear was not becoming a reality. She wouldn't let it.

* * *

"Okay."

What else could he say? He didn't know how to reassure her; he didn't know what to say to make it better. There wasn't even a joking response in his head to her words, his mind bogged down by what she described and how it made him feel.

He was reminded uncomfortably of the worry he had felt as they carried Moe and Larry through the woods - the worry that, for the first time, his power wouldn't be enough to save his friend. It wasn't something he had allowed himself to dwell on. It was something he had pushed aside and not thought of again.

Maybe he was lucky that  _he_  wasn't having nightmares. About Larry, or Moe, or Rose. They had all been in danger that night. Any of them could have ended up not just hurt but  _dead_  that night. He didn't like thinking about it - even in passing.  _Not_  dying was something he hoped they would all be doing for a very, very long time.

Because he didn't know what he would do if something happened to one of his friends that he couldn't fix.

* * *

"Now," she said, drawing a sleeve over her face to get rid of any remaining wetness, "I think it's best if we go to sleep and forget about this whole mess of a night." As if it wasn't enough that she had these horrible, unceasing nightmares, she had also utterly embarrassed herself by letting another person see her freak out and even cry.

Although… even if she didn't want to admit it… maybe she was a little glad he came over. Not that it would have ever crossed her mind that someone would do anything like that, but when she thought about it, that was part of the reason the two of them had even become friends, and it was what made him different than anyone else. Curly was the kind of person who never leaves a man behind, and he was always there for his friends… even when they didn't know they needed him.

And maybe the young, sheltered princess of Oloria really had, without realising it, needed him. She had been so cold for so long… and his warmth was strangely utterly comforting. So much, in fact, that Rose was this close to asking for one more reassuring Curly hug before he had to go. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit back on it. Not because she thought he would turn her down – he probably wouldn't – but because it was not appropriate. That much physical contact with people of the opposite sex, especially when alone, was not… what she was supposed to do. A switch flipped inside her head, and she realised that she was acting like a doll on strings again. That whatever part of her was actually real was being smothered by decorum and etiquette. And she wanted to be real.

"Actually…" Rose said out of the blue, "if you don't mind it… I think I can use one of those Curly hugs. That is, unless I've already exhausted my allotted hug count for one night."

* * *

A short huff of laughter slipped out, a little painful, a little amused. "Forgetting is not an option," he pointed out, turning his body more fully towards hers and opening his arms. "But another Curly hug is. The supply is kind of infinite."

From arguing, to crying, to comforting, back to arguing, and crying, and then comforting again - what a night. Curran wondered if helping Rose would always be this much of a challenge, or if it would always make him think and feel this much. After all the time he had spent with Larry and Moe, the strategies that worked best to help them came almost like second nature, but with Rose... it was harder. He had to think more, weigh his actions and words against what she would accept and what would make her sense of propriety raise its head.

But if her request was an indication, maybe at least somewhat casual physical contact wouldn't be so off-limits anymore. That was progress. Plus she had talked to him about not only the nightmare that had driven her to call him, but also her apparently recurring nightmares (he really ought to get with Larry about those); those things definitely counted as progress as well.

And maybe... he had made a bit of his own progress tonight. Because he now had a fuller understanding of just how much he didn't want his friends to come to harm and the realization brewed in his mind that one day, his power to heal might not be enough to save them. So maybe, just maybe, the Fairy Godmother was right. Maybe Magical Defense was something he should put some effort into. If - and just if, because Curly was not quite willing to put his heart into this thing, even now - he could turn his healing ability on its head, if he could use his magic to hurt instead of heal, then maybe he could prevent harm from befalling his friends in the first place.

Wouldn't that be worth any price? Even the cost of his own soul?

* * *

Rose laughed a little, then gladly sank into his arms, her own once again wrapping gently around his waist. 'Curly hugs' definitely deserved their own label.

"I really wish you'd forget though," she muttered into his shoulder, revelling in the warmth. "You must think me insane now, losing my head so easily." She sighed. "Do  _not_ take this as an invitation to repeat tonight, but… thank you. For everything. For coming. For caring. For being my friend, though I still have no idea why you would want to." Actually, she did know. It was because he thought she could use one. Even if his desire to help others was the only thing that had captured his attention, Rose didn't even care anymore. She was just grateful he was there.

With one last, light squeeze, she pulled back and gave him a small smile. "Get some sleep. No offense, but you kind of look like you need it. Just, erm… wake me up before you go." She might just panic again if he was just gone in the morning.

* * *

Resting his cheek on the top of her head, Curly felt his lips curve up into a smile.

"Wish not granted," he said, letting himself slip back into his usual, more cheerful attitude as the teasing response came to his mind. "It's the first time you've hugged me - I'm not forgetting that!" He laughed - out of the two of them, Rose would probably be considered the saner one, in his opinion.

Her thanks wasn't necessary, not when Curly already felt he had responded the right way to the princess's phone call, but it still made him glad. "You're welcome. Though, I probably should be thanking you for putting up with me."

He didn't really want to let go of Rose, but when she pulled away, he didn't try to hold onto her. Instead, the prince flashed her a smile and got off her bed. "I will." Even with how much he had been awake that night, Curly doubted he would sleep late. Maybe it was his magic, maybe it was just part of his nature, but he had a tendency to be up with the sun most days. Whether he did or not this time, he wouldn't leave without saying something to Rose.

* * *

Rose chuckled along with him – what was it about his laugh that was always so cheerful? – and her eyes darted quickly to the desk, where the blue journal was buried under a few notebooks. It wasn't just the first time she had hugged him, it was the first time she had hugged anyone that wasn't her immediate family. That definitely counted as an important memory, and she'd have to remember to make an entry about it tomorrow.

"Good night," she said to him when he finally got off, then laid down herself. Rose had suggested sleeping for his sake entirely – she herself didn't even want to entertain the notion. Whether it was tunnels, Curly, Larry, Moe, or anyone else getting hurt - she didn't want to see it. The princes closed her eyes and wished with all her heart she would never dream again.

However, as is the case in real life, wishes don't come true just because you want them to. Rose laid on her back for what seemed like forever, and could slowly feel Curly's heat dissipate, leaving her cold once again. It wasn't long before the feeling of fatigue fell over her, and though she knew she was too tired to last all night, the thought of more nightmares terrified her.

Rose turned over and pulled herself to the edge of the bed, peeking down at the sleeping Curly. Laying on her stomach, she slipped her hand down until it reached the floor and, not really sure why, grasped a bit of his bedding between her fingers. It wasn't exactly touching him, but she somehow felt like the blanket was her lifeline to Curly, like it connected her, however superficially, to him. A small smile bloomed on her face and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion.

And so, for the first time in months, Rose actually had a few hours of peaceful, undisturbed sleep.

* * *

-O-

When Curly first woke up, as he did most mornings, he woke up all at once. There was very little of the confused state between being asleep and being awake, the space where it is easiest to dream and to fall back to sleep. He was simply, suddenly, and completely awake.

Similarly, there was no disorientation as to where he was; he knew he was on the floor in Rose's dorm and remembered quite well the events of the night before, even if they weren't immediately on his mind. What  _was_  on his mind, when he popped awake and stretched, where two things.

Thing number one: sleeping on the floor made him very, very stiff, in spite of his efforts to pad the hardwood with blankets and the fact that he had managed to keep comfortably warm the entire night.

Thing number two: sometime during the night, he had restless-sleeper-ed his way closer to Rose's bed and she, consciously or unconsciously, had her hand over the side of the bed, and, somehow, her hand had wound up on top of his head, perilously close to covering his face.

Thing number two was very important because it had him grinning with the idea that had popped into his head.

Prior to the night before, he would not have been willing to act on this idea, but after the unprecedented amount of touching the princess had allowed the night before, Curly decided Rose would not be too terribly upset with him for this small, goofy imposition on her person.

Carefully taking her hand in his, he guided it off the top of his head and to his mouth, turning it so that the palm was facing him. Barely suppressing laughter, the prince of Corona then proceeded to blow a raspberry on Rose's hand.

* * *

Rose shot up, startled by the sudden sound, and propped herself up on her elbow. Eyes heavy with sleep, she surveyed her surroundings, looking for the source of the noise. Then, wondering what was weighing down her other hand, her gaze fell down to see Curly grinning at her.

Something clicked in her head, and it all fell into place. Rose's eyes widened, then she jerked her hand out of his and sat up, cradling it against her chest. Hot embarrassment flooded her like a tidal wave.

"What is wrong with you?!" she exclaimed indignantly, her face quickly flushing.

* * *

Curly couldn't help it - he laughed. Not a quiet laugh, not one with any sort of control, but an unrestrained guffaw that had him rolling away from her to hold his ribs, which ached already from trying  _not_ to laugh before (not to mention sleeping on the floor). He kept laughing, even as he registered the flush on her face and tried, with little success, to issue an apology. Or at least explain himself.

Every time he looked at Rose though, the look on her face just made him laugh harder, and he couldn't get the words out. After three attempts to look her in the eye and say something, Curly gave up and stayed curled away from her until he got breath enough to wheeze, "I'm... sorry... couldn't... resist!"

Then, of course, he promptly dissolved back into breathless laughter.

* * *

Rose's face became redder, if that was even possible, his laughter sparking irritation and indignation simultaneously.

"You are incorrigible!" she exclaimed in frustration. Not having a pillow to throw at him this time, she reached to her nightstand instead, still holding the offended hand close to her chest, and all of the neatly arranged objects there flew one by one in the laughing prince's direction. "You juvenile," a packet of tissues, "insufferable," a hair tie, "unbelievable," the hairbrush, "insolent," nail polish, "hopeless," nail polish remover, "idiot! And while I was sleeping too!" A butterfly-shaped hair-clasp.

Rose was still fuming, but she had ran out of things to throw. The nerve of him, to do something this improper! "Never, ever touch me again!"

* * *

In hindsight, maybe blowing a raspberry on Rose's hand wasn't the best idea. But even as she pelted him with the objects from her bedside table, he couldn't stop laughing, not even when the tissues hit his head, the hair tie his nose, the hairbrush his shoulder, the nail polish his thigh, the nail polish remover his side and the butterfly hair-clasp smacked into his forearm.

He couldn't help it. Her reaction was just so over-the-top and  _funny_ , the prince couldn't help but laugh. It blew his theory that he had only found Rose's anger last night adorable because he was sleepy out of the water, but how could he not laugh at this? She was literally throwing whatever was within reach at him! And the things she was  _saying_  - they were probably the most insulting things she could think of in that moment and it was just so... cute. And terribly, awfully funny.

The "Never, ever touch me again!" did get through, but after a brief argument with himself over whether or not she was serious about that - she looked like she might be, but Curly had quite a bit of confidence in his ability to convince Rose of things - he decided to just nod and let himself laugh his amusement to its natural conclusion. Which might take a while. Laughter tended to just perpetuate more laughter, after all.

* * *

And he was  _still laughing_!

Rose stood up, walked over to his make-shift bed and yanked the blankets from under Curly, piling everything on top of him. "Get up!" she demanded angrily, giving the mountain of covers a hard push down to accentuate her words. "And get out of my room!"

The princess picked up the items she had thrown at him off the floor and dumped them on the nightstand again, too angry to arrange them right now. Then she just walked over to the door, crossed her arms and waited for him to calm down, her own temper flaring like an active volcano, and her foot tapping impatiently.

* * *

Rose was stronger than she looked. Curly tumbled onto the hardwood as she yanked on his blankets, banging knees and forehead against the floor. "Ouch," he yelped, but even that didn't get him to stop laughing for more than a couple of seconds. Especially not when the princess followed up by dumping the blankets back on top of him and shoving him.

Why, oh why, did he think she was so cute when she was mad like this? It would probably save him a lot of trouble if he wasn't so amused by an angry Rose. Hell. It would probably help  _a lot_  if he could just stop  _laughing_.

He made a valiant effort. He really did. He managed to turn guffaws to chuckles. But then he had to stand up, his blankets gathered in his arms, and see her. Standing in the doorway, glaring at him, her foot  _tapping_. And Curly lost it again.

He tried to apologize as he shuffled out the door passed her, but the words were garbled by the laughter spilling from his lips. Maybe he managed to make his face look at least a  _little_  apologetic, but in the end, he just shook his head and edged into the hallway, half expecting Rose to throw something at his head as he carried his stuff back to his dorm.


	10. Chapter 10

 There was a long-standing tradition in the Kingdom of Oloria. Every Christmas Eve the whole town would gather around a giant Christmas Tree, and anyone could place an ornament on it, be they commoner or royal. There was a great celebration, with the castle providing a feast like none the peasants had ever seen, the Royal Orchestra playing Christmas music, and everyone laughing and having a good time, celebrating the holiday together, as equals.

Everyone, that is, except the princess of the land. Her parents and Rogers, the royal advisor, would tell her how dangerous it would be for the Heir to the throne to be in the open like that, how in a crowd that big and loud she could easily get lost, get hurt, fall, break something, get bitten by street mutts or, God forbid, catch a cold. It was far too dangerous for the delicate princess to leave the safety of the castle, for if she broke her pretty, porcelain face, the civil unrest would surely lead to war.

So, every Christmas was always the same for Rose. She would bid her parents farewell, then wander the empty, ghostly castle or curl up with a book in the Library, listening to the cheer that carried all the way to the palace. Then, on Christmas Day, she would wake up early and greet her parents at the gate, listen to them recount the highlights of the night and let them shower her with presents that she didn't really need. Rose received thirty-eight presents from her parents alone last year, but, being a princess, had little use for more dresses and jewellery. She could have any material possession she wanted with only a word, but still had humoured her parents, thanked them, and let them get some much needed sleep.

However, this Christmas was a little different. Princess Rose had just come back from Andover Academy, and her head was full of strange, new ideas. So when, for the first time ever, she requested that she be allowed to make decorations for the tree, she was understandably met with a few surprised glances. She was allowed to, of course, it was a basic right of every citizen of Oloria, but until then her mother had been the one to make the Royal Decoration (usually something swan-shaped) every single year, while Rose had never expressed interest in the tradition. But this year, something had changed.

Rose had enjoyed making the butterfly Halloween costume herself, so instead of selecting from the large and glittering Royal collection of ornaments, she insisted on making her own. Materials were immediately brought to her room, and with one last warning from Rogers to be careful with the scissors, Rose managed to get rid of him and get to work.

It took her two and a half hours for the first one, but it was worth it. The decoration was a large red rose, intricately made from wire and coloured rice paper. Each petal had to be formed and glued on separately, but when the flower was finished, it looked so real one could almost smell its fragrance. Having an idea, Rose squirted a bit of her own rose petal perfume on it, and to her satisfaction, the ornament turned out beautifully. Even Larry couldn't make a better one (out of paper).

The next one took a bit less. Rose was never good with neither technology nor drawing, but she managed to piece together a life-size replica of a Nikon D5300 digital camera out of thick Styrofoam, painted over to look like the real thing. Though if one looked too closely at it, they'd find it rather crude. Still, from a distance it could maybe fool a short-sighted senior citizen.

For the third ornament, however, she hit a roadblock. It was the very first design that had popped into her mind when she thought of crafting the decorations herself, but making it out of lifeless, plain paper just didn't feel right. It had to be bigger than that. Radiant.

Having a stroke of genius, Rose stood up from the cluttered floor and raced down the empty hallways. Only when she heard voices did she slow down, remembering that running was unladylike. The Royal Christmas Tree was in the middle of the Greeting Hall, as usual, and the princess' eyes wandered straight to the top, seeking the glow of the object she was looking for.

"You there," she said to two passing maids. "Get me that star."

The leftmost girl looked up the seven-foot tree. "That star, Milady? The one at the top?"

"Yes, that one."

The maids exchanged a glance. "We'll… have to check with Sir Rogers..."

Rose straightened her posture and lifted her chin. "Rogers answers to me. I am the future Queen of this castle, and I have given you a direct order."

The two girls seemed to almost shrink under her commanding stare but nodded and ran off to get one of the ladders usually used for cleaning the high windows. Rose looked up to the shining star at the top of the tree.  _Yes_ , she thought,  _this will do nicely_.

When the hour finally came and it was time for the royal procession to leave, Rose waited patiently for her parents by the carriage so see them off as they left for the city square.

"So..." King Siegfried began hesitantly. "Did you make your ornaments?"

Rose nodded and handed him a paper bag in which she had carefully arranged her creations. "I want the middle one to go on the top."

Siegfried reached in and pulled out a yellow, sun-shaped ornament. He and Odette exchanged glances, then the Queen said, "It's a sun, Rose. The one that goes on the top is always a star."

"The sun  _is_  a star, Mom. And all the stars in the sky are suns. "Sun" is just what we call the closest star to our planet, but it is not any different in essence than any other flaming ball of plasma in the universe. There are of course blue stars and red stars, but I assure you, the Sun is just like any other yellow dwarf."

The royal couple exchanged glances. They understood maybe 70% of what their daughter said.

Rose sighed and reached for the base of the sun, pressing a button inside, making it glow brightly. "It's shiny enough. I used parts of the star in the Greeting Hall to make it."

After a bit of hesitation, King Siegfried consented. "Alright. I suppose it's close enough." Then he yelled to the coachman to go.

"Wait!" Rose clutched the side of the carriage in panic. It stopped immediately.

Siegfried and Odette stared at their daughter in surprise, mixed with confusion. They hadn't seen her this improper since she was a child.

"This is very important," Rose said, her eyes darting from one parent to the other. "The three ornaments need to be close to each other." Her parents looked like they were beginning to doubt her sanity. "It's hard to explain… they just need to be together. Don't scatter them all around the tree. Please. Promise me."

The royal couple exchanged another glance. "We promise," Odette said, though she was clearly still perplexed by her daughter's behaviour.

The carriage took off, followed by the royal procession, and Rose watched them disappear before going back up to her room. She sat by the window and read from  _The Little Prince_  for the millionth time. When she got to the chapter about the fox, she stopped and lowered the thin book.

" _To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ._ "

A small smile made its way to her lips. It was true, she supposed. Just like the fox, she had been tamed. Unwittingly, to be sure, but there were certain things she looked at differently now. Like the Sun. And curly fries. Food in general, really. And anything imported from Corona.

Her blue eyes wandered to the desk, where her pink phone rested on top of her completed holiday homework. She had the fleeting thought to call and wish him a Merry Christmas, but Curly, Larry and Moe were probably together right now, up to no good, as usual. She didn't want to interrupt them.

A long gong-like sound echoed through the empty castle. It would be midnight soon. Rose turned off the light in her room, leaned on the windowsill and stared into the darkness, looking at all the happy, glimmering dots coming from the town. Then, just as she managed to find the towering silhouette of the Christmas Tree, its top ignited in a bright, yellow light. Rose smiled and rested her chin on her folded arms. Even so far away, it still made her feel warm.

She remained like that for hours, just staring at the distant glow, until sleep overtook her, and she drifted off among the muted sounds of Christmas carols, the soft shine caressing her face.

For the first time ever, Rose didn't feel quite so lonely on Christmas.

* * *

-O-

 

The next day, Rose stopped right outside of the door to her father's study and took a deep breath. She had never done this before.

Gathering her resolve, the young princess raised her fist and knocked.

"Come in."

Her fingers curled around the doorknob and she twisted it slowly, pushing the massive dark-wood door. King Siegfried was sitting behind his big oaken desk, the quill in his hand moving over an edict he was currently passing.

"Yes?" he said, his eyes glued to the papers.

Rose stood up straight. "Dad, I wish to go to the Docks."

That got his attention. "You want to go outside?" he echoed, looking up.

"Yes. I want to go shopping."

Siegfried smiled slightly. "Just tell Rogers what you need, he'll get it for you." Then he returned to the edicts as if the matter was closed and he expected her to leave. When she didn't, he looked up again. "Is there anything else?"

"I want to do this myself," Rose said, standing her ground.

Siegfried put the quill down. "Is there a specific reason for that?"

"Yes."

He waited, but she didn't elaborate.

"... And are you going to tell me what it is?"

"I'm not really sure about it myself," Rose replied honestly. "But I it think it would be more... personal."

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. "Ah. You're shopping for presents. And you would risk your own safety just to make it 'more personal'?"

"I will take a guard," Rose replied quickly. "And I'll be back before dark."

"Out of the question," the King said, inking the quill anew. "The Docks are too dangerous. Tell Rogers what needs to be bought and he'll have it delivered. Whoever you're buying it for won't know the difference."

"I will know!" Rose insisted.

"I said 'no', Rose," her father said firmly.

Rose looked down to the ground. "Grandfather would have allowed it," she said quietly. The screeching of the quill stopped.

"And you intend to tell him, do you?"

"I always write him a letter around the holidays," Rose replied, though the underlying meaning was clear.

Siegfried sighed and his hand rose to massage his right temple. "And he will undoubtedly lecture me about parenting and freedom for about four hours." It took him a minute to think things over, but his daughter remained still and silent, waiting for his final verdict. He looked up to her. "And you really want to go yourself?" She nodded. Another sigh of exasperation. "Very well. But you will take a full guard detail and be back in no more than two hours. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Thanks, Dad."

Siegfried smiled. "And dress warmly."

Rose backed away gracefully, but as soon as she was out of view a huge smile spilled across her face, and she could barely keep herself from skipping on the way to her room.

* * *

-O-

The guards were so close to Rose the edges of her thick winter cloak brushed against their armour. She knew it was for her own protection, but felt a little irritated from their presence.

Though it was mid-winter, the market was packed with people – merchants talking over each other, beggars relying on the goodwill of the season, townsfolk buying fish or other items, and sailors, walking around with their sweethearts or looking for a good bottle of ale.

Many sold the sort of hat Curly had asked for, and Rose had little trouble finding one sufficiently pirate-looking. Just as she was paying for it, however, her eyes fell on the bundle of identical ones hanging from a string in the corner of the stand, and she remembered the Stooges' coordinated Halloween costumes.

"Excuse me!" she said to the merchant. "I would like two more, please."

"Princess, may I ask what you are going to do with three identical pirate hats?" the Captain of the Guard asked, taking the plastic bags from the vendor.

"She's going to wear all three at once, obviously," a young recruit chimed in with a smirk. "And may I add, your Highness, that you would look simply ravishing in them." He gave her a wink.

"Fool!" the Captain chastised him as Rose stepped back uncomfortably. "Do not speak to your princess so familiarly!"

The stream of passer-bys slowed its flow. Some people turned their heads around curiously, echoing her title. The word was picked up in a choir of whispers, low at first, then swiftly growing into a crescendo of voices.

"Princess?"

"Did he say 'the princess'? Where?"

"Princess?  _Our_  princess?"

"Princess!" yelled a vendor close by, who seemed to have finally spotted her, waving a colourful scarf. "Over here! I have the best shawls in the kingdom!"

It spread like wildfire. Soon the whole market was abuzz with the news – the princess herself had come down to the Docks. Most people had only ever caught a glimpse of her – and even then it was from afar – so many were craning their necks and stepping closer, trying to get a better look. A thick, curious crowd formed around Rose and her entourage. The protective backs of the guard detail immediately surrounded her, keeping her out of sight.

"This way," the Captain said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her forward, his other hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Rose followed, confused and a little scared. The guards' armour clinked as they moved, forcing their way through the sea of people. Rose could see bodies being shoved out of the way, hear shouts and shrieks as they passed by the commoners. It was all very disorienting and alarming, and all the princess could see were the backs of her guards, trying to guide her to safety. When they finally stopped, all she could see were the tall, dirty walls of a dead-end alley.

"Perhaps it would be better if we wait here for a while," the Captain suggested.

Rose nodded. She looked around wearily, trying to discern where they were, and noticed a door on the eastern wall. Approaching it slowly to inspect the red, peeling letters on its sign, she realised it was the back door to an antique shop.

"Princess?" one of the guards said as her hand pushed on the handle.

"We might as well wait it out inside," she replied, walking in.

The door revealed a well-lit but empty shop with large glass windows. Rose walked in hesitantly, followed at a distance by her guards, and looked around curiously. She was currently standing in the behind-the-counter area, where cardboard boxed heaped upon one another were safely hidden away from the customers. The shop itself was rather cluttered. Many shelves lined the walls, almost bursting with various curios. Bigger, bulkier objects were propped against the walls, and Rose carefully approached to get a better look, managing to make out a worn, rolled up carpet, a stone gargoyle statue, and a full suit of armour, complete with a heavy-looking claymore. Her eyes wandered then up to the shelves where she saw - among other things - a beautiful comb made from a large seashell, a shiny crystal ball, dragon claws piled in a jar, and a ship in a bottle. She squinted to read the name on the tiny plaque: " _L'Orient_ ". A slight gasp escaped her lips, and she unwittingly reached for it.

"May I help you?" a soft voice sounded in the silence, and Rose turned around sharply to come face to face with an elderly, bespectacled man, whose tufts of pure white hair surrounded a shiny spot of skin on his head.

"Yes," Rose said politely. "I would like to ask about this ship in a bottle. Is it really the Orient?"

"Ah," the man said, coming closer. "We have a historian here, do we? Yes, it is a perfect replica of the Océan-class 118-gun flagship of the French Navy, famous for her role at the Battle of the Nile in August 1798. You have a good eye, Miss."

Rose looked back to the ship.  _Larry would love this_ , she thought. "How much do you ask for it?"

The man smirked. "For the future Queen of Oloria? Half-price." He pointed to the label under the bottle, displaying the number 638.

"I'll take it," she said.

The man reached up and tentatively took the bottle off the shelf, then walked over to the counter to wrap it and put it in a box. Rose followed, and her eyes fell upon a strange gun with a wooden handle and an odd metal mechanism on the top, which sat in a display case next to the register.

"Is this a gun?" she asked curiously.

"Yes. A precursor to modern firearms, you could say," the man said, carefully placing the glass bottle in bubblewrap. "It is an antique 'Queen Anne' flintlock pistol. This particular one was rumoured to have belonged to Davy Jones."

"Davy Jones, the pirate?"

The man looked up and grinned at her. "Aye."

The princess' eyes slid over the pistol, and the thought occurred to her that Moe might find it fun to tinker with. "I'll take it."

"As you wish."

While her purchases were being packaged and carried by one of the guards, Rose looked around the shop some more. Since she had gotten things for Larry and Moe, it felt only fair to get something for Curly as well. However, nothing else in there was sufficiently pirate-like (and she was  _not_  about to get the human equivalent of a tornado a gun). She looked throughout the entire display, but just couldn't find something the hyperactive prince of Corona would like.

"Princess? Is there anything else you require from this store?" the Captain asked when everything was ready to go.

Rose managed to tear her eyes away from a stained voodoo doll with shiny pins sticking out of it and said, "No. I think I got all I needed."

One of the guards peeked out the window. "Things still haven't settled down out there."

"Back door," the Captain replied and returned to the back exit, holding the door open for Rose. She stepped into the dark alley once more, but it was not as deserted anymore.

Leaning on the opposite wall, a scruffy old beggar had laid out a collection of knick-knacks upon a tatty sheet. His greying beard was short and unkempt, and his head was bowed low, the hood hiding his eyes from the princess' view.

"See anything you like?" he asked hoarsely.

The Captain put a hand on his sword again, but Rose extended her arm in front of him and shook her head. Slowly, she approached the beggar and knelt down to inspected the items critically: shell-made bracelets and string necklaces with scallops hanging from them, small boxes adorned with broken pieces of shells, and oddly-shaped candleholders made from clams.

"He wouldn't like any of those," the man said cryptically.

Rose looked up to him, a bit confused. "Who wouldn't like them?"

"The young prince with the healing hands."

Her eyes grew in surprise. Was he a psychic? "How did you—"

"This, I believe, will capture his interest."

The man reached into the dirty pocket of his overcoat and pulled out what seemed to be a round brass pocket watch, which hung on a long chain. The lid fell open and Rose saw that it was not a watch, but, in fact, a compass. The arrow jerked in random directions, like a stumbling drunkard trying to find his way home. Without thinking too much about it, Rose held out her hand, and the beggar gently lowered it into her palm. As soon as the strangely warm metal touched her skin, the arrow turned around, firmly pointing to the right.

"Is it broken?" she asked, her eyes glued to the object.

"Not at all," the man said. "It is the most accurate compass in the world. As long as you hold it in your hand, it will never fail you."

Rose turned it over. It looked sufficiently pirate-like. Maybe Curly really would like it? He wouldn't have much use for it, but what practical use were her other gifts anyway? It was just something to make them happy for a little bit, bring smiles to their faces. She wasn't expecting Moe to actually shoot the pistol either.

"What does it cost?" she asked.

The man smirked. "It might cost one of your memories from when you were two. Or I could ask for the colour of your hair or the sound of your laughter. But in this case... it will cost you a smile."

Rose tilted her head slightly. "A smile?"

He nodded, and she looked back to the compass. Curly really might get a kick out of it. Her thumb caressed the glass surface gently, and she imagined for a second his face lighting up upon receiving the gift. The smile came uncalled to her face.

"Ah, is there anything more precious than a genuine smile?" the man said with a small sigh, letting go of the chain. "Especially when it comes from a pretty girl."

"Is that really—"

A sudden gust of wind whipped locks of blonde hair in her face, making her duck down. She heard the sound of a sword being drawn and the Captain's voice booming in the empty alley.

"Where did he go?"

Rose opened her eyes, but all she could see before her were dirty bricks.


	11. Chapter 11

Rose walked into the shooting range, already decked out in protective gear – a bracer, chest guard and a shooting glove. A full quiver was swinging from her right hip, and her Christmas present – a white wood recurve bow – was clutched tightly in her hand. Her breath turned into wisps of white fog in the chilly air, but it wasn't intolerably cold.

She got into position in front of one of the targets, back straight and shoulders pulled back. Reaching down to her hip, the princess took out an arrow and nocked it to the bow, raising it and drawing the tail up to her cheek. With a deep breath to steady herself, she took aim a centimetre and a half above the red centre.

The truth was, Rose didn't come out here to practice in the cold January afternoon just because she got a shiny new toy. The Halloween incident still haunted her, especially with Larry having ended up in the Infirmary for as long as he had, and she found herself wishing she were more useful. What if she could have stopped the spider sooner? Would Moe still have gotten hurt? Would Larry have been  _that_ close to death? And what if something like that happened again? She couldn't heal, or grant wishes, or swing vines around, she was just an ordinary girl. What could she do when faced with monsters? She wasn't some warrior princess, and the only moderately useful skill she had was this – the ability to shoot arrows at static targets. Her father was a great hunter, but, as it was unladylike, Rose had never gotten into it. The only reason for her even learning how to hold a bow was because Oloria had a silly ceremony once a year where the King (and/or the Heir) was supposed to set a giant monster puppet on fire with a flaming arrow to commemorate the day her father killed Rothbart the Sorcerer.

Rose knew it was probably useless. Even if she got better at this, she couldn't always be carrying around a bow, and Curly often got himself (and her) in life-threatening situations when she least expected it. But… at least it was doing  _something_.

The princess took a deep, slow breath to steady herself, then let the arrow fly.

* * *

Maxon, unlike some of his peers around him, was here at the range to test out the latest Christmas present that he had received from his father. Unlike the casual gifts that a teen boy his age was receiving on Christmas, he didn't get an iPad, exploding hoverboard or a new MacBook. In a big, sliver-wrapped box, Max had received a Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun. Himself and his father were gun enthusiasts. They liked to go on hunts, and they liked to go to the shooting range to blast through couple of boxes of ammo to see who was the better shot. He preferred shot guns, he liked shooting them, but he rarely got to use them, except when he came to a range. His dad preferred riffles over shot guns.

He chose to shoot at the outdoor range instead of inside just because the chilled—and damn near freezing—air reminded him of hunting. He got to his stall and placed down his bag that held the gun and a couple boxes of ammo. He needed to let off some steam. He was still angry, pissed at the fact that someone had tried to kill his sister. That this someone was still alive when, if not for the FG and Sula, she would be dead. He swore if he ever met this man, a man he had only laid eyes on once before, he would plant a bullet square between the bastard's eyes and not even bat an eye in remorse. Max was protective of his sister. Even if she could be a little brat from hell sometimes, Cathalina was his only sibling... His only baby sister.

He began to load his fun, snapping the barrel back into place when he was finished. He always thought it odd that his school had a shooting range where students could bring their guns and practice. There were people rallying for gun control, and here they were with this on campus. Though, they weren't like ordinary schools. They trained in combat, in self protection, and it was vital, especially for people like Max who didn't have a handy power he could just use to do physical damage to someone. He had a full-body shield that he projected in his mind that protected him from magical attacks, but physical? Someone could come up and punch him in the gut and it would hurt all the same. So, he needed to learn how to protected himself in other ways, and he was damn good at it.

He searched all through his bag for his ear muffs and couldn't find them. He only found his eye protectors. "Dammit," he mumbled under his breath. That was the one rule of the gun range, everyone had to use basic gun protection. He didn't feel like huffing it all the way back to his gun locker to get some. He looked to his right and saw a blonde wielding a bow like your every day Katniss Everdeen, except this girl was far more suited up. Her particular dress told him she was all about safety first, and he was hoping maybe she might be carrying an extra pair of muffs he could borrow. And please God, don't let them be pink.

He waited for her to take her shot, noticing she needed some work, but didn't outright say it like that. He was, in fact, trying to borrowing something from her. Best to keep what may seem like an insult, even though it would just be constructive criticism to himself. "Hey, I'm Max." He introduced himself, outstretching a hand. "I haven't seen you here before. First time at the range?" He was... easing into the conversation of her bow skills.

* * *

The arrow whizzed through the air and hit the target, about five centimetres to the right.  _Well, at least it still hit_ , Rose told herself as she reached down for another one, suppressing the sigh that was begging to be let out. So she wasn't good enough yet – that was what practising was for.

Then she heard a voice, and her head snapped in its direction. In all of her depressing thoughts, she hadn't even seen the guy approach. When she saw him standing next to her, she nearly jumped in surprise.

"Oh, hello," she replied politely, turning to face him and unwittingly straightening her posture. "My name is Rose," she added, taking his hand and fighting the urge to curtsy. It was still her gut response to do so, but the kids in this school seemed to look down on such formality. "Is it that obvious?" she said when he asked if this was her first time.

* * *

Maxon noticed how her back straightened just enough to stand up straight. She didn't look rigid, but it wasn't as most stood when greeting a fellow classmate. In a way, Max was a nobody. He was not the Fairy Godmother, he was not one of the parents who — a lot of them — commanded respect for their titles, he was just one of her peers. At her posture, he had to fight the urge to do it himself. He felt as though it was a test for her to see just how lazy he was. Funny and ridiculous thought, he knew, but honestly he had never met one of his school peers who just went so formal. Her parents must've grooved that in deep to her or she just took her etiquette classes very seriously.

As it was, Max's posture didn't improve much from his casual stance, but it would improve greatly when he picked up his gun to begin practising. "Nice to meet you, Rose." He might've seen her around school, but he wasn't too sure. She was probably in a different grade than him. He was a junior and typically their classes didn't mix too much besides the basics.

He squinted at her question as he looked out at her target, seeing the location of where her bow sunk into the prop. "Well," he said, licking his lips to try and cover up a smile. "I wouldn't think it was your first time ever shooting a bow. You actually hit the target, so, that's impressive," he said in a congratulatory tone. "You just need some practice." He assured her to try and boost her confidence that she would get better. "Have you ever gotten lessons on shooting bows? Or are you one of the typical 21st century kids that learn everything from YouTube?"

* * *

Oh boy.  _More_ slang? She really needed to get a book on the subject. Being lost on certain words was beginning to be an inconvenience.

Rose blinked at him in confusion for a couple of seconds, before it dawned on her that "Youtube" was a website.

"Oh, you mean that site with the videos? No, I don't really use computers very often." She could barely navigate a phone. "My father taught me. He's really big on hunting. I've… never shot at a moving target though. I was mainly taught for ceremonial purposes, but I'd like to get… better."

Hopefully good enough to incapacitate a threat.

* * *

Maxon saw confusion on her face and was thinking back on what he said that could've confused her. The last thing he would have expected was YouTube. YouTube was their generations ultimate guide on go-to's. It was right up there with Google. You needed to learn how to make a cake, you go to YouTube. You needed help with editing on your computer? YouTube. You wanted to laugh at stupid cats and stupid people? YouTube. So, for her not to know automatically what he was talking about had him blinking at her a couple times to make sure she was real.

"How do you do research papers or get your music?" Computers were life. Who was this girl? And Ceremonial purposes? "I don't want to sound rude, but, where did you live before the academy?" He gave a small laugh to lighten the mood, but he was curious. "No computers... tell me you at least own a smartphone?" He sounded maybe a little too hopeful. She was what? She looked about 16. Every girl he knew was into social media and selfies. Wow.

"I mean, I'm not YouTube," small joke, "but, if you'd like, I can try to give you some pointers. Guns are more my thing than bows, but I'm a decent shot."

* * *

Rose clutched the bow with both hands as he laughed at her obvious lack of knowledge about modern technology, trying to resist the urge to run away. She just never took to the cold shine of a computer screen, preferring to bury herself in books most of the time. However, the princess hadn't expected that people might laugh at her for it. A small part of her wanted to just leave and go back to her dorm, but a Queen does not back down.

Holding her head up high, Rose gathered whatever pride she could and said, "I get my music from CDs, and I research papers in the Library." At the question about her home, her voice grew cold. "And I have lived in a castle, in a kingdom where people do not say they don't mean to be rude right before they insult you. And yes, I do have a smartphone, as surprising as that might be to you." She reached into her front pocked and held up her pink Samsung Galaxy S3 as proof.

* * *

Max couldn't help but think how strange that was for people their age. CD's were great but Google was everyone's best friend. Research papers required text books and such, but it would take him days to get a paper done. Normally — well, it was because he was a procrastinator — he got a report done in a few hours. His social life would take one hell of a hit if he studied the way she did.

Clearly, he had offended her, even though he said he meant no offense. Sensitive. "I wasn't trying to insult you. It was a... bad joke and question." He shook his head and said, "I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. I know some parents here like to keep values," old traditions, "with their kids and they're..." He paused, again, not wanting to offend her, "sheltered. I wasn't raised that way." He stated the obvious about himself. He was raised in England, on an estate where he had access to the internet, but his parents sent him to private schools and he had core values that they believed instilled in him. Like being polite. Especially to a girl he just met. He looked at her pink phone and smiled to himself, thinking of the pink muffs he assumed her to have. "The phone is slightly surprising but the color is not. I pegged you for a pink kind of girl. Is it your favorite color?"

* * *

Well, at least he apologized.  _Not everyone here would do that_ , Rose thought. Ravyn wouldn't. Ursula  _definitely_ wouldn't. So shouldn't that win him some points?

Rose gave Max a hard, appraising look. "Apology accepted," she said, turning back towards the targets. "To answer that question, if it really was intended as such, I am the Heir Apparent to the Kingdom of Oloria." She took another arrow and nocked the bow, drawing back the string. "And yes, pink is my favourite colour, though I don't know what about me led you to that conclusion." Maybe it was the warm pink jumper she was wearing.

She decided to ignore the slight jab of him admitting surprise, thinking it was probably unintentional. "We have a saying back in Oloria," Rose said, taking aim again. "If you want to make a good archer, start with his grandfather." The princess let go, but again the arrow hit about seven centimetres below the red dot. She hadn't properly accounted for the arc. "Which means I have a long way to go if I want to be worth anything with a bow. If you truly meant what you said, any help you can offer would be greatly appreciated."

* * *

Maxon physically had an exhale of relief when she accepted his apology, his shoulders relaxing some. He tried to recall where Oloria was, exactly. There were thousands of kingdoms and lands, and it seemed impossible to memorize, but the school tried to make you remember. It was a part of their studies, remembering which kingdom belonged to which rulers, and obviously, he should go home and study more because he couldn't exactly recall. He'd look it up later.

His lips pulled into a half smile. "Pink is a very feminine color," he began to explain the reasoning behind his assumption, "You look very feminine with your salon shiny blonde hair, manicured nails, and you're also wearing pink. I'm also psychic." He laughed, "Joking." Being able to read the future or people's minds or auras was not his ability, but he was good at generally reading people.

That saying flew right over his head just like her arrow sailed in the air, but he understood when she simplified it. "I truly mean that I am willing to give you some tips and help you." He looked at her target, seeing where she sunk the arrow. His eyes then went back to her to take in her form and see how she could improve. "Keep your feel planted like you are, square with the target, raise your arms." He mimicked as if he had a bow in his arms, arching them higher in the air to show the position she needed to be in. "And breathe out before you let the string snap. It helps with balance a lot more than it would seem." He cast a quick glance to his gun that was sitting on his side of the stall. He would get a couple rounds in later, but right now, he was going to offer some tips and tricks he could to Rose. Maybe, if she was up to it, he'll teach her how to shoot the gun.

* * *

Rose looked to him and mimicked his pose, raising the bow higher. Archery in general was harder than the much simpler "point and shoot" concept of modern guns. There was the angle to think of, the arch an arrow makes in the air, wind currents, the distance to the target… Though arrows were generally quieter and more effective (taking out an arrow wasn't nearly as easy or as painless as the movies made it seem, nor was moving while you have a sharp metal bit stuck in you), the practice had died down because of how much quicker one could pick up shooting off a rifle.

She breathed in again. Exhaled. Released the arrow.

It whizzed through the air and hit just at the right edge of the red circle.

"I almost did it!" Rose said excitedly, flashing a quick smile at Max. "That's as close as I've ever gotten! I can't believe something so small made that much of a difference." Putting the bow down, the princess turned to face him once again. "So where do you think I ought to aim if I'm trying just to injure someone? To incapacitate them?" No matter how far away it was, Rose was rather squeamish when I came to blood. Unless the threat was really serious, she probably wouldn't aim to kill. "Hypothetically, of course," she added quickly before Max could think she was thinking of going through the halls of Andover, shooting people in the kneecaps.

* * *

Max held his pose until she was in position, and then he eyed her to make sure she was in good form. Her arms were bent at the right angles, her shoulders back and locked, her footing was good, and from what he could tell she had a good core. He lowered his arms out of the pose and when she took a deep breath, so did he, and upon exhale, he watched as the arrow zipped through the area and hit the target just shy of the bullseye. He clapped a few times to congratulate her. "Look at that! One instruction and you're almost hitting a bullseye." The first time he ever tried a bow it took him thirty minutes just to figure out how to hold the bow and arrow correctly, and another thirty minutes to actually shoot the arrow without it falling pathetically to the ground. He was eight, and a lot of arrows were broken in the process out of frustration.

He turned back to face her when she asked how to incapacitate people. His first thought was if she was learning this because she felt threatened. The thought of her running around and shooting people in the legs at school didn't even cross his mind, though, if it did, he would've snickered at the thought and probably be the first person she shot. Rose just didn't come off as the girl who would be in any immediate danger from someone, she didn't look like she went around pissing people off. "Incapacitate?" He asked, giving her an 'in' to tell him if anything was wrong. But, even if there wasn't, she was learning how to shoot a bow and needed to know these things.

"Shoulders." He pointed to the meaty area just below his collar bone to indicate where she should aim for. "If they have weapons, shooting them in the shoulders will make them drop it." He glanced back at her target, seeing how close she was to a hit. She need a lot more time, because a couple inches in the chest region could mean life or death. "Calves and thighs are good for getting them to stop or slow down. Thighs you have to be careful with because you hit the wrong spot and the person will bleed out in minutes from hitting an artery. But, if they're running at you, it'll be hard to hit them and... Hold on," he said as he stepped back and walked to his stall and grabbed his shotgun. He brought it back. "Have you ever shot a gun, Princess?"

* * *

"Yes, incapacitate," Rose repeated. "As in, if I don't want to kill someone – or something – dangerous and just want to get away. Hypothetically."

She honestly hoped that this knowledge wouldn't require any practical use outside of the hypothetical, but really didn't want to take a chance. If another monster, or even a person, came after her, she wanted to be able to  _do_ something. Still, Rose felt like she probably wouldn't have the guts to actually kill anyone, which was why knowing non-lethal places to aim at would be ideal. She didn't want to hesitate at the worst of times and pay the price, or worse – have someone else pay it.

Rose nodded as she listened to him explain about the shoulders and thighs. That made a lot of sense.

When he offered her the gun, all she could to was eye it apprehensively for a few moments. "No… I haven't," she said, taking it tentatively. It was heavy and cold. Rose held it up, holstering it against her shoulder, aiming at the targets. She knew guns were supposed to have a bit of a kick, so she kept her posture straight, preparing herself for an impact.

**_BANG!_ **

The gun fired with a deafening explosion, the force of it sending her flying back through the air. Rose hit the frozen ground, hard, and it knocked the wind out of her. The gun left her hand, but she couldn't tell in which direction it went. Her ears were ringing. The world was spinning. Her vision was blurry.

"Ow…" she moaned quietly.

* * *

Maxon handed her the gun and thought she was just going to look at it. "It's more common and is more effective. Less time." That's how everything was now. Everyone wanted quick gratification. They wanted something right then and there that required the least amount of work. Though, when it came to safety, it was more logical to go with a gun than to go with a bow. It was good to keep a bit of everything under your belt. Swords, guns, bows, and hand-to-hand.

He thought Rose was sizing up the gun, getting a good feel, and that's why when the blast went off, he almost had a heart attack. A string of curses filled the air as he clutched his chest. "What in the—" He paused when he noticed she wasn't standing before him anymore. He looked down and saw her on the ground. His lips tight-lined as he tried to hold back a laugh, but seeing her flat on her ass after the kick-back of the gun, plus the slight bit of hysteria he was feeling with being caught off guard with the blast, had him hand on knees laughing. "Hahaha!" He was laughing so hard, water was filling his eyes. The pretty princess was on her ass from a shotgun blast... THAT was funny!

He tried to straighten up, but it took him a couple tries before he was able to control his laughing enough not to be hunch back and wipe his tears. "You are a guns a blazing type of girl, huh? Wait for—" He had to pause cause he was laughing again, "Ahh, God. That was great." He was still chuckling when he reached her and held out his hand to help her up. "It's got one hell of a kick, doesn't it?" The gun was... somewhere, and he'd look for it in a minute when he helped her up. "Are you okay?" He knew it hurt like hell, and she was probably going to get a pretty good bruise too. He knew this from experience.

* * *

Everything slowly came back into focus. As the annoying ringing died down, Rose registered that her body hurt pretty much all over, and that Max was laughing. She'd really made a fool of herself in front of him today, hadn't she?

"I've never been kicked quite like that before," the princess grunted, taking his hand. "I'm fine," she added, rising to her feet. If she had a bruise on a specific spot, she couldn't tell yet; her whole body was still reverberating with the shock of the impact. "But I think I've decided that I don't like guns very much. Aren't there less… injure-inducing methods of self-defence?"

* * *

Maxon chuckled at her comment of being kicked. "Ah. So, I take it you've never pissed off a horse? I don't advise it. They hurt like hell." Experience, yet again. He was not one of those prim and proper young lads growing up who didn't get dirty and was swaddled. No. He was adventurous, never able to sit still, and always up for the biggest challenges. Just like riding the horse no one liked to go near. Being adventurous didn't always work out in his favor.

"You should probably start off with a pistol. Something that won't send you flying back." He didn't have a pistol with him, only the shotgun. "I have some in my gun locker so, if you want to give it another go, I'll teach you with something lighter first." He looked around and saw the gun about ten feet away and made his way over to get it. "Self defence with no injury? Not a chance." Even that bow she's fond of would give her sore and eventually calloused finger tips. "It's good, though it may not seem like it. To get some injuries will toughen you up. Hand to hand combat like MMA is good for that. You'll be able to lay hits as well as receive them."

* * *

Rose gave the gun another look. "I think I've had enough experience with firearms to last me a while," she said. Guns were too noisy, too rough. Her eyes wandered back to him when he mentioned a gun locker. "So you're into guns? Are you even allowed to carry one?" She looked him over. The sheltered princess wasn't a very good judge of age, but Max looked older than her. Maybe he could pass for twenty… Oh God. Was she actually talking to a teacher!? Or a TA? "You… you  _are_ a student, aren't you?" Rose asked apprehensively. If he  _was_ an actual authority figure, she would never live the embarrassment down.

The mention of MMA snapped her back to the present. "Hand-to-hand?" she echoed. "That sounds…" her nose scrunched up in distaste, "sweaty." She had seen the sign-up sheet for the club, though had never considered it, of course. It was too unladylike. But now, upon further reflection, was being unladylike as important as being able to defend herself and people she cared about? "How good are you, exactly?" Rose asked. If she could learn the basics without doing it in a room full of people, that would be ideal. "Can you teach me?"

Plus, this had the benefit of not needing to carry an actual weapon everywhere. There had to be a book about it in the Library. Rose made a mental note to check.

* * *

Max stifled back another laugh. One shot seemed to be enough for her, and he didn't have another gun on him to try to convince her otherwise. Guns really weren't so bad once you got over the kick-back and the noise. His eyebrow raised for her concern. "I  _am_  a student," he assured, to soothe whatever worry she had. "Why? You think I'm going to bust you for something?" He put the safety back on the gun and set it down. "If you get approval by the FG, you get a gun locker and you can practice with them out here at the shooting range. The school actually likes when you take defence classes. You know, in case we ever have to fight a dragon or if you want to shoot someone in the leg with a bow."

He mentions MMA, actual hand-to-hand, and she's not worried about spraining her wrist or getting hurt in any way, she was worried about getting  _sweaty_. "Sweat is good. Sweat means you're actually working the muscles and pushing yourself." Girls were always worried about their hygiene. "You really want to learn? Despite the sweat and the sore muscles?" He wasn't saying no, and he wasn't discouraging her, but he was curious if she was honestly wanting to learn. "I'll teach you. And I even know a partner you could really go hand-to-hand with." Well, he knew two. Sula and Leez. Leez was probably a safer bet, but they were both amazing. "I can train you and then when you feel comfortable, I know a couple kick-ass MMA girls." Nothing against her, and this was definitely not a sexist thing. He had went one on one with Leez more than once, and he hadn't yet with Sula, but he had seen her and he knew she was good. He just thought Rose might be more comfortable with a girl. "Or you can fight me. Whatever you feel ready for."

* * *

Oh, good. He was only a teenager after all. Though definitely a junior or senior.

And sweat was  _not_ good, not at  ** _all_**. It meant more showers than necessary, and that meant touching more water than necessary. Rose almost shivered but managed to keep it in.  _It would be during the day_ , she told herself firmly.  _No need to panic._

The princess met his gaze and nodded seriously. "I do want to learn." Personal discomfort could be overlooked in this case, especially if the skill ended up being useful. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't… advertise the fact," she added a bit apprehensively, her eyes wandering to the ground. While she was willing to be seen sweaty and humiliated (as she would undoubtedly feel at first) by Max, as long as he was the one teaching her, Rose didn't really want any more people to see her in that light. "I wouldn't expect you to do it for free, of course," she added, looking at him again. "I'll compensate you somehow." Most of the students were wealthy, so she wasn't sure if he would need or accept money. If this were happening to Curly, he'd probably offer to make him cupcakes. "I'm not really proficient at anything, but if you ever need a favour, all you have to do is ask; I'll give you my phone number."

Rose gave Max a small smile. That seemed nice and vague. That way he could pick his own reward, and as a royal heir, she had quite a few resources, should he need them. Or she could do his homework. She'd be fine with that.

* * *

Max couldn't help but wonder why Rose wanted to learn these skills. Fighting and shooting, all self defences. She didn't look like the type to get in trouble, especially with the wrong kind of people. She probably had no enemies - which, was hard for him to believe. Didn't everyone have at least one person that didn't like them? Though, Rose just looked too nice. Proper to the point where she almost seemed a tad snobby, but she was just nice, so he couldn't see a reason for who she could've offended. But he was probably just thinking too much into it. She just wanted to learn for herself.

As she eyed the ground, he eyed her. He shook his head like he was erasing the fact that he had mentioned anyone else. "Then it'll just be us. No one else will have to know that you're learning." He felt the urge to give her that 'it's okay to be ashamed, everyone starts off somewhere' type of speech, but he didn't. She should know that, but if she chose to keep it private for awhile, that was up to her. He was there to help her learn and later on, when she was comfortable, he might try again to have her try with someone else. It was always good combating with someone else. Everyone had their own style and if you fought with the same person for too long, you knew their style and their tells so it just became easy. That wouldn't be for awhile though.

Normally, when a girl gave them their number like this, it was a favor of a different kind. If he thought for a second that that's what Rose was offering, he'd decline. Not that she wasn't pretty, but because... well, oddly he hadn't been looking at anyone like that in awhile. He was satisfied. But, Rose wasn't offering a hook up. He gave her a smile back, "I'll give you my number and you can text me yours so we can schedule when you want to meet up, but don't worry about paying me back." He didn't need money, and he couldn't think of anything else. He wasn't looking to help her to turn a profit anyway. "You ready for my number?" he asked, waiting for her to pull out her phone so she could tap it in.

* * *

The smile, which widened a little when Max said he'd keep these lessons to himself, turned into a confused frown as he declined compensation. "But… then I would feel like I am taking advantage of you," Rose said. "It wouldn't be fair of me to use you like this and not give anything back. Isn't there anything you want done? Or…" The princess trailed off, not sure how to continue. She didn't really have anything of value to offer. The fact saddened her a bit, but she had known it for a while. Rose was a princess — nothing more, nothing less. She was a doll, dressed and ready to play a certain part, but there wasn't much more to her. She remembered gloomily how Larry had listed traits he thought she possessed, and how only 'intelligent' was actually one she would agree to. Though, Max didn't really seem like he needed help in the academic department. Still… that was all she had.

"If you have a paper you don't feel like researching, I could do that for you," she offered weakly and pulled out her phone again, getting ready to add him to her rather short list of contacts. "I'm ready."

* * *

Max got the whole wanting to repay someone for their help thing. He was the exact same way. He wouldn't take unless he could repay. This wasn't like he was doing a job. He didn't view this as work. He viewed it as helping out and getting some practice in. "Rose, I'm serious. You don't have to repay me. Helping you practice helps me, so we're helping each other in a way." Once she got her skill level up — which who knew how long that would be. She seemed to be a fast learner with the bow — she would or could be a good partner for him. She'd know his style because she learned from him, so it'd train his body to fight in a different way so he could defeat her. "As much as I hate doing research papers, the last thing I need is the FG to find out I'm cheating and having someone write them for me. Have you met her yet?" She probably hadn't. Rose just didn't seem like the type to get in trouble, but maybe she's seen her some other way. "You don't want on her bad side." He chuckled. "If you're so worried about paying me back, just..." He shrugged, trying to think of something that she could do for him. "Hm... whenever you kick someone's ass when you're good and skilled and they asked you where you learn to fight, credit me, k?" He started laughing then. That's the only thing he could think of. Once she had her phone out and ready, he told her his number. "Whenever you're ready to start, just text me and we can work out a day that works for us."

* * *

Rose considered his words carefully. True, a sparring partner was a sort of help. "Okay," she consented. "Still though, if you ever need anything…" She didn't think finishing the sentence was necessary.

"Not in person, no," she said in reply to his Fairy Godmother question, barely looking up from typing in his number, then couldn't help but chuckle lightly at his quip about crediting him. "I'll be sure to do that." Rose looked to him again and smiled gratefully. "There, message sent. Let me know when you're free."

Putting the phone away and turning back to back the targets, Rose tried to raise the bow again for another practice shot. As soon as she raised her arm, however, the princess whimpered in pain and almost dropped the weapon. Her shoulder was burning, but she tried to keep it in. "I guess that's enough practice for today," Rose said, clutching her right shoulder, as small shocks of pain shot through various parts of her body as she moved. "I think I might need to lie down for a bit. I suppose I should get used to bruises, though? Can't imagine a round with you will be much gentler." At least she hoped so. Rose didn't want him going easy on her — a real threat wouldn't.

She gave Max a half-smile and took a step towards the exit. "I'll be seeing you, then."

* * *

Max heard the offer still hanging in the air about a possible favor. Even though he told her he didn't need anything in return, he'd probably come up with one small thing like her bringing a coffee or something if they met in the morning, just so she could feel better. "If I need anything," he held up his phone showing the message bright on his screen that she just sent him, "I have your number." He slid his finger across the screen and tapped in her contact and saved it in his phone. "Same. If you have a free day just text me and we'll try to meet up in the gym." He slid his phone back into his pocket and picked up his gun that was resting on the wall. He heard her cry in pain and looked over, seeing her favoring a shoulder. "I'm not," he said as a warning and a slight apology. He wasn't gentle and he wouldn't be gentle with her, not if she was really going to learn. It wasn't like he was going to kick her ass, but he would push her hard and wouldn't go easy. "Make sure you ice that shoulder and rest it up. You're going to need it for training," he said as he walked back over to his stall, then waved at Rose. "I'll be seeing you later. It was nice meeting you, Rose."


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Rose stood in front of the door to the Stooges' dorm room and looked down at the three rather large paper bags swinging from her arm. Perhaps she should wait a bit and give them the things she had brought them when she ran into them in the hallways? Was it too forward to go to their door? The princess had no idea how to handle a situation like this – she had never given anyone a Christmas gift before. Nor had she had someone to give anything  _to_ before.

To think it had all started out so simply… All she wanted was to buy a hat, but then it all spiralled out of control down at the Oloria Docks...

So here she was, a bag for each boy in her hand, containing their hat and present. She wondered if she had overdone it a bit, since Moe and Larry hadn't asked for anything. Was it too presumptuous to get them things? Her hand rose to knock, but she hesitated. What exactly would she say?

It occurred to her that she could leave the bags at the door for them to find, but a voice in the back of her head, one that suspiciously sounded like Rogers, insisted that Queens do not back down and face their problems head on.

Rose straightened her posture, took in a deep breath and knocked.

* * *

This was one of Moe's rare breaks. For the last week since returning to the Academy, he'd been knee deep in some code that had been the center of his brain world for most of the holiday. He had rarely come up for air and food and all those things necessary to function and, as it turned out, the knock on the door came at exactly such a time.

On his way to the kitchen for a snack, Moe stopped by the door and opened it. "R-rose." Awkward pause. "H-h-i-i. Um..." Shifty feet and a gulp. "Cur-luh-lee isn't... He-he's not here."

* * *

"That's okay, I'm not here for him," Rose replied, greeting Moe with a small smile. "I, er… got you something." She glanced quickly inside the bags to check their contents, then held up the one meant for Moe. "I… I'm not sure if you'll like it, but I thought you might at least find it interesting," she added awkwardly. "It's, erm… a belated Christmas present… and a thank you. I never got to say it properly after… after that night. You got knocked out trying to save me. So thank you."

Because almost none of her classes overlapped with Moe, Rose had never properly expressed her gratitude. Who knows how Halloween would have ended if he hadn't pulled her out of the spider's range.

The princess glanced down at the bags still swinging from her arm. "The others are for Larry and Curly, do you mind if I leave them with you?"

* * *

When Rose said she wasn't there for Curly, Moe's next thought was of Larry. Not that girls came to visit their dorm very often, but the ones that did never came to visit with Moses. Well, except for Iolanthe, but she didn't come over so much. Usually when they needed to meet, it was at the classroom or darkroom. Sometimes a study hall or the cafeteria.

This is why he was slow to understand when Rose said she got him something.  _Him._

Then it took him an extra minute to realize what she was thanking him for, and by the time he actually managed to get any response together, his face was redder than a sunburn and his ears were hotter than coal. Rose was thanking him for what he saw as a stupid, weak move, as passing out. Curly had been on the other side of the spider that night. Only Rose knew he'd gotten knocked out trying to protect her, but all Moses could think about was the fact he wasn't there to help out his brothers too.

When he realized she was just holding the bag out there for him to take, Moe blushed even more—he could always get redder—and then he reached out to take it from her. "I-ahem thank-thank you. Y-you didn't have to g-et me..." Moses swallowed hard to stop himself. Momma always told him that thanks and appreciation were the best ways to receive a gift. He opened the bag and glanced inside without seeing anything and managed to look up at her. "Thank you, R-rose."

After that he wasn't able to talk for a second and just nodded about leaving the other presents with him.

* * *

With how embarrassed Moe seemed to get, Rose quickly became mortified. Oh no. She had crossed some sort of social line after all! Why was there no book on casual social conventions?

"I—I probably should have asked first," she said, growing a bit red in the face herself. "I wasn't really sure if… I mean, I'm sorry if I was too imposing… I just thought you might like it," the princess finished weakly.

She'd never meant to push any sort of boundaries, which was hard when she wasn't sure where they laid, exactly. In normal circumstances she would have sent a messenger, possibly written a formal card, but, as she was quick to find out, Andover didn't really function like a royal court. She knew she had to do it in person, however that worked, and could only hope they wouldn't think her too crazy.

Well, there was not going back now, though Rose did feel like hiding in her room for the rest of the day. "This one is for Larry," she said, holding up the heavier of the two remaining bags, wishing she had had the foresight to label them. Or at least write cards, dear Lord! How had she bombed something this simple so spectacularly? "It's a ship in a bottle," she added as a way to remedy things. "And that one's for Curly. They're all sea-themed; Oloria is a coastal country, so…"

* * *

"Huh?" he asked dumbly. Because Moses was exactly that; a great big fat dumby. Here was a girl coming to see him, baring gifts and he was making her apologize? Idiot. "I mean, no. N-no." Moe gulped down his trepidation to speak with girls in general and actually try to fix his fuck up and make her feel comfortable again.

"I me-ean... thanks. Thank you. F-for the gifts." Moe looked in the bags again and then up at her. "They'll—we. It's... uh, sorry." If the redness in his face had dimmed at all, it was back ten-fold now. What a douche bag! What guy makes a girl upset after she gives him a gift? A fucking tool, that's who. Moe was a fucking tool.

If his hands weren't currently filled, Moses would have definitely looked the part of pathetic, guilty jerk; hands in pockets and all. He even scuffed his bare foot on the carpet. "Curly's going to chew me out now," he mumbled accidentally. "We don't g-get stufffrom peep-gr-girls."

* * *

The mention of Curly possibly scolding him made Rose's eyes narrow slightly. "He will not, unless he wants  _me_ to chew  _him_ out," she said, notes of irritation sneaking into her voice. She doubted Curly would actually yell at Moe or anything, but even the thought of a light chiding didn't sit well with her. It wasn't his fault that she had such a poor understanding of social norms.

She let out a barely audible, sharp breath to get rid of the sudden annoyance, so when she managed to give Moe a small smile, it was actually genuine. "You're welcome, though. I had never gone shopping for Christmas presents personally before, it was… quite eventful. How were your holidays?" she asked politely.

* * *

Moe flinched ever so slightly at the irritated flare in Rose's voice, but the threat to Curly's life—because that is exactly what he'd heard in her threat—pulled up the corner of his mouth into a small, twitching smile. He did not say it, but Moses would pay to see that. Even with as loyal a guy as he was to his two best friends, and any friends he actually did manage to make in general, there were times he would admit to feelings of annoyance toward them. Especially when Curly was getting on him about being social.

Truth was, pre-Curly, Moe and even Larry were more reclusive and idiotically pathetic in any given social setting — him more so than Larry. Having Curly in their lives had changed them, made them better. Made him better. For that alone, Moses would die for his friend. But that did not mean he did not get tired of Curly nagging him and interfering, like he always must do. So, to see Rose chew the stuffing out of Curly every once in a while sounded mightily entertaining.

Her admission about her first time present shopping wasn't all that odd to Moses. His brain easily worked out how that was understandable and therefore acceptable, like her situation was a piece of the code that was Rose, the Swan Princess. Moe even accepted easily how should find such a task  ** _eventful_** , without sarcasm or judgment. From what he knew of her—from his spying job for Curly and anything that stuck in his brain when Curly just would not shut up about her—Rose had lived a very sheltered life, only recently experiencing many  ** _firsts_**  that other teens, even himself, would take for granted. Shopping for presents being one.

But with all his understanding, the thing that did make his brain stall was her inquiry as to his holiday. Like the gift she got for  ** _him_** , Moe was unaccustomed to anyone else's interest in him and his life. Not even Curly and Larry genuinely found his interests fascinating. When they asked—which they'd learned not to for the most part, for their own sanity—he could almost see their eyes glassing over. Moe was a geek-freak, nerd-boy and a big square whose cool points only existed in MMORPG.

Moe shifted from one foot to the other. They were standing in his doorway and, belatedly, he was realizing he should have invited her in a while ago despite him not knowing she would actually want to converse with him. "Uh-err, good—doyouwannacomeinside?" he blurted awkwardly, face flushing yet again—sometimes he wondered if it would save time if he stayed red all the time—and scrunched his mouth into a weird side mouth frown thing. Panicking, Moses did not wait for the princess's reply before he turned around and disappeared into the dorm, heading the way to set the bags down and still head to the kitchen where he had been going in the first place.

All the while he was cursing up a storm in his head for being stupid and freaking out about having a girl in the dorm alone. The only thing that set him above a freaked out dog right then was that he wasn't peeing on the floor or biting her. And possibly the hair four-legged creature bit, but that would just ruin the comparison.

* * *

Moe's unintelligible words came out too fast for Rose to understand, but it sounded like he said something about glue commencing? For a second all she could do was blink at him, but then he simply turned around and walked back in. She waited at the door for a few seconds, but when he didn't return to close it, the princess took it as an invitation and cautiously stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind her.

One glimpse around had her smiling widely. She could tell, just from a single look, which bed belonged to whom. Larry's was the one surrounded by bookshelves – because of course it was – with a few tomes scattered here and there, on his desk and around the bed. Curly's was the messiest, a cork board with pictures of his friends and parents hanging on the wall in his corner of the room. Moe's bed seemed the most untouched, she assumed because he spent so much time in front of a monitor. Craning her neck a little, Rose looked curiously at Moe's desk in the other corner, which was instantly recognizable as his. A comfy, wheeled chair, situated in front of three large computer screens, with many more monitors and keyboards covering various surrounding surfaces, some of which were taken up by a large number of computer games. There were wires everywhere, crossing and running across the floor like thin black snakes, coiling around each other and connecting everything as if it was one living, breathing organism.

Rose took a small step towards it, careful not to step on or bump into anything. "Wow," she uttered, truly impressed. She had a keen interest in science, understood and knew many things, but computers and electronics were not on that list. "You have… an amazing set up here. Did you do all of this yourself?"

* * *

The room wasn't all that big. It wasn't a suite with multiple rooms, hallways and doors. Aside from Larry's room, which they were all pretty sure had been a closet in another life, the only other separated area was the bathroom. The kitchen was really a kitchenette and was on the other side of the door to the dorm. For three guys, it was a tiny space, but because the Stooges got along well and were very good at living in their own little worlds, it wasn't all that bothersome.

Unless a girl showed up. Then Moe was conscious of the tiny space. His girl-induced awkwardness made any enclosed space he shared with any female seem too small. Rose being in their dorm made him feeling like Alice in Wonderland after she ate that treat. His feet were large and clumsy, catching and kicking into the floorboards when he turned around. He jammed his elbow on the door frame and made his funny bone ache. And then when he tried to pull his arm in, he ended up jamming his middle finger into the knob of the cabinet. All because there was a girl in his room and she was going toward his stuff.

By the time Moe took the two steps past the closed door and into the bed place, he'd already yelped and was rubbing his elbow and shaking his hand alternately. "Uh-err, thanks." Moses tried to step around her and into his space without touching her. Like she was diseased or something, like he didn't want to get her girl-cooties on him. Not because they were gross or anything pre-kindergarten like that, but because there was no way Moses actually knew what to do with something like girl-cooties. Even when he was working on projects with Io, Moses did everything in his power not to touch her.

"Yeah. Um..." Moe reached over the tiny girl and double tapped the escape button on his computer to hide the photographs that were on display on one of the monitors. They weren't anything pornographic or obscene, but he did have some photos of girls in the school, with their permission, who were subjects of his photography. Moe just didn't want Rose thinking he was some kind of stalker. And possibly didn't want her mentioning the new photos of the Charming princess to Curly. His buddy ragged on him about crushing on his photography partner enough as it was. With Curly's current distraction with the Swan Princess, the teasing had substantially decreased. No need to have Rose asking Curran about it just so his roommate could start up all over again.

Moses did not have a crush on Iolanthe. Besides, even if he did, it wasn't like he had a freaking chance.

"I like computers," he said, standing/looking awkwardly beside the princess. "A-and pho—ta-taking pictures."

* * *

Despite the awe she felt at all the mysterious – because that was exactly what complicated electronics were to her – computers, Rose turned around sharply when she heard him yelp.

"Are you okay?" she asked in concern, though it was obviously nothing serious. Then she ducked a little when he reached over her. He was obviously trying to keep his distance, and she of all people could understand that – Rose didn't like others invading her personal space, with very,  _very_ few exceptions. She wasn't one for casual physical contact either, not unless the person was dying, like when she pulled Curly back from the edge of death when they first met or when she had to help Larry to the Infirmary.

Computers and photography – both things she had little experience with. So little, in fact, to the point of illiteracy. Rose remembered with a pang of embarrassment how Max had laughed at her for being unsure what YouTube was. Phones she understood a little bit, enough to call or text someone, maybe use the camera, but nothing more complicated than that. There was a computer in her father's castle, several in fact. Rogers was well-versed enough, even showed her how to move the mouse and things like that, but the young princess never really found a use for the thing. Anything she wanted to know was in the castle's vast library, anything she needed was delivered to her if she wished it, any music she wanted to listen to was either available in sheet music for her to play, in CDs or simply through the radio, and any news she needed to read were either told to her by her father or printed in the newspaper.

However… being a mockery would not do. She knew of course that Max didn't mean anything malicious or degrading by it, but he would not be the only one to notice she was lacking so severely when it came to this area. But Moe's words lit up a bulb inside her head.

"I see…" she began, though it was stating the obvious. Even if she wasn't standing right next to his set up, she had heard plenty about his tech-savviness from Curly, who never missed an opportunity to talk him up, and even a little from Larry. Rose didn't know how to ask, but she gave it a shot. "I'm actually kind of… really bad with computers. Someone I met made fun of me for it recently…" Embarrassment from the memory burned fresh in her mind, and she looked down at her feet. "Would you… would you be willing to teach me a little bit?" she asked, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. This was going to show her ignorance no matter what, so she thought she'd start with the most embarrassing questions and get them out of the way. "Nothing fancy, just the basics. For example, what sort of websites do people our age frequent? How do they listen to music if it's not on CDs? How do they shop for things online if there's no one to hand money to? How hard is it to set up an electronic mailbox?"

* * *

Moe's only response to her concern was a weird grimace and a jerky nod. Even if she could figure it out on her own, his already negative accumulation of cool points would sink significantly. Of the un-cool, Moses North was king, tzar, emperor, and deity. There was no doubt. If there was something bigger than a god, Moses was it when it came to the ultimate of uncoolness. Except in MMORPG, then Moe was the bomb-diggity. But then that was some sort of oxymoron in and of itself. Whatever.

When Rose started talking about her lack of skill set with regards to computers, Moses nodded his head agreeably, not because he was agreeing that she sucked—he would not ever tell a girl she sucked, on purpose—but because the average person did not know much about computers and her statement was not a surprise. Not that she was saying she was average or anything either. Rose was not average, and he knew girls did not like being average. Unless it had to do with the Academy and then some girls didn't mind because the other options were either prep or rogue and some girls just didn't want that. But outside of Academy standards and those specific girls, he would never say a girl was average. Or tell Rose that.

Thankfully, before his head could explode from girl-confusion, the question Rose—the not ever in a million years average Swan Princess girl—asked him sunk in and, like all things technological, snagged on Moe's wayward thoughts before they could take the tumble into the abyss of dweebery and focused him on everything that he was totally and utterly confident in. Words like  _website_  and  _online_  and  _electronic_  were the Ritalin to his spastic brain, the 5200mm telephoto lens to his distant mind. The tragedy that was his girl-induced awkwardness disappeared in the face of extreme focus and absolute confidence that came when his tech-geek nerd-god was showing.

Moses didn't even bother with agreeing to teach her. He simply stepped around her—no longer bothering to think about the girl-cooties—and sat down in his desk chair with a relaxed but alter air. "When you say 'electronic mailbox' are you talking about email, or a tech bot of some kind that can go pick up and receive snail mail from the post?" Either way, he could help her out with both. As it was, in the seconds it would take for her to answer him, Moe's brain was already working up the rough specs for an electronic mailbox. Depending on what she was looking for, he was pretty sure he could incorporate some magic in it as well, make the snail mail more tortoise-like in speed or something faster. Magic-tech was his baby.

* * *

"A tech bot?" Rose echoed, confused. "Those… exist?" She had no clue what that would even be like, but her mind painted her a picture of a tiny robot that walked around collecting letters. "No, I… I mean electronic letters, the kind you type on a keyboard." A foreign concept to begin with. The only person Rose ever corresponded with was her grandfather, and she always mailed him a hand-written letter, wax sealed and everything. But she had heard of e-mail, though she didn't fully understand what exactly it entailed or who you're supposed to talk to in order to sign up for one.

Since Moe had sat behind his desk, and Rose had the feeling this might take a little while, she took Curly's chair and placed it as close as she could without bumping into the shelves, again very careful not to catch or trip in any wires. Then she sat down, her back straight as an arrow, and peeked over his arm at the large screens in front of them.

* * *

"Sure," he replied confidently as his fingers typed away. "Nothing like the Terminator yet or anything, but there's a whole bunch of bot tech out there." Moe glanced over his shoulder at Rose with a laughing smile on his face. Excitement in his eyes. There was no mistaking his interest in the subject.

Moe reached up and tapped a monitor for her attention. "Technically, anything that can be controlled via remote with the ability to move independent of a stationary structure can be considered a bot or robot. See?" He clicked through some pictures on the monitor he had indicated. "Cars. Boats. But that's circa 1960's. Now we have drones." Moses clicked a few pictures and then turned around and pointed to a contraption he had up on one of his shelves. "That's mine. But I have magic to utilize so it's not exactly the bot that humans have. For you..." He faced her. Looked her in the eye. Not a stutter or a flinch. There was no girl-induced fear at all as he engaged Rose in the wonders of Magi-tech. "I could probably wrangle something together, different and slightly more complicated than a simple drone."

But she wasn't talking about that. Yet. "If you wanted." He spun around, with a playful air, back to his keyboard. "But. As for email, you've already got one." A few more taps on the key board, and an illegal hack or seven, not that Rose would be able to tell, and the monitor right in front of him displayed the email of Rose Waltz; Freshman of Andover Academy.

Moses turned around to face her again and explained. "Every student who attends the Academy is given an email address so that the student can be sent pertinent information pertaining to the school, its staff, classes, and events. So, you've been receiving emails from the school office and probably any clubs you've joined. Teachers with the latest changes to the syllabus, et cetera." Moe's large shoulders raised and lowered in an easy shrug. "Since you didn't know you had it, I doubt anyone outside of school staff and T.A's emailed you anything and since they mostly give that stuff out in class, I doubt you've missed anything." From his previous illegal hacking on the Swan Princess's info, he knew she was a pretty good student.

* * *

When Moe smiled at her this brightly, Rose couldn't help but return it. He seemed to visibly loosen up, and the fact that he wasn't laughing or poking fun at her made it easier for her to relax as well.

"I've never thought about it like that," she said in response to his definition of a robot. Things like cars and boats she understood a little better than computers, because things like internal combustion engines functioned on physical principals and not software code. Then she followed his hand as he pointed to his own personal "bot" and couldn't believe she didn't even know that these drone things existed. No one in the Oloria court had one, as far as she knew.

"More complicated how?" she asked, curious how far Moe's abilities extended with these things. Even if it had nothing to do with his actual wish-granting powers, as a "techie genius", as Larry had put it, he could probably make it tap-dance or something.

Then her eyes widened in surprise when he showed her she actually  _had_ an e-mail! How did she not know about this? This was a serious faux pas, she must have misheard or forgotten about it, and teachers have been sending her these electronic letter things all this time! The thought that she must've missed something hugely important, even after Moe's reassurance of the opposite, left her mortified. Her eyes darted across the screen, committing the address to memory, while also making a mental note to turn her dorm upside down if she had to and find any sort of clue she might have missed. Maybe she wrote it down in a notebook or something. How could she be so daft?

On second thought, maybe it would be better if she wrote it down now, just in case. "Can I borrow a pen and paper? I don't want to forget the address."

* * *

Moe didn't produce a paper and pen when she asked. Instead, he clicked a few keys and moved his mouse around to a couple of icons before his printer, in the far back corner of his station, started up and began printing the information she was wanting to remember. And while that printed, Moses went on to answer her previous question — he could never turn down a question about tech. "Drones are basic-functioning. Their purpose is simple; fly around." He had turned around in his chair to face the princess while he explained. Leaning back in his chair, casual and relaxed, with his knees apart, big feet pointed out, and hands loosely clasped over his abdominals, Moses was the picture of simple, easy-going self-assurance.

"You can add on to it, depending on the function you wish it to accomplish. A camera for recon, photography. Humans put weapon systems on some of them. Some have delivery systems in their specs. But if you're looking for some kind of tech bot to deal with your mail..." Moe's large shoulders shrugged again, a somewhat lazy, careless contradiction to the excited light in his eyes. Yeah. Moe could make a simple, easy peasy bot that would serve the basic function, but where was the fun in that?

"Depends on what you want. I could have it just pick up and deliver your snail mail to you. I could have it sort your mail, organize it, and dispose of the junk. And that's only with basic machinery and program code. But if I implemented magical functions, it wouldn't be called snail mail anymore and it would probably be really simple stuff to work with your email, text, tweets, and other social media aspects and applications." His brain was getting away from him the more he spoke, the more he thought about it. Moe no longer saw a tech bot just for Rose but a magi-tech he could invent that would be even better than the cellphones, tablets, and tech of today. "Witches have this way of communicating that if I can figure it out," he started to murmur to himself.

Moe wasn't sitting leaned back anymore, but sitting straighter and straighter. Turning in his chair, blind to the outside world as his brain function turned in on itself, bouncing ideas off of one another like mirrors and balls of light. Soon enough, Moe's fingers were flying across his keyboard as he continued to mumble words of ideas going by too quickly to form any complete sentences. But he was on to something. Something huge!

* * *

Wow. Moe was like a completely different person when he wasn't wound tight as a spring around her. The contrast was almost comical, but Rose contained herself to just a smile, albeit a wide one.

He said a whole lot of things in a short amount of time, and the princess thought in the back of her head that it was the longest she'd heard him speak continuously, and all without a single stutter. To the front of her consciousness, however, were the possibilities of such a contraption. Not the silly mail sorting, she didn't much care about that. Besides, she didn't have a clue what "snail mail" meant, and at this point was too afraid to ask.

"Hm… a delivery system would actually be immensely useful. Can you somehow make it… I don't know, detect where a person is and carry something to them?" Being a non-magical hundred-something pound princess, Rose had a very, very limited choice when it came to self-defense. Max had promised to teach her some hand-to-hand, but that wouldn't be much help against giant spiders and the like, would it? Her archery skill was getting better, slowly but surely, and she felt confident enough to use it, but there was the problem of carrying a long recurve bow everywhere. And the thing about misadventures was that they could happen at any time, without warning.

When Moe went on his own tangent and began straightening up, Rose was barely able to keep up. "What are 'tweets'?" she managed to say, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears as Moe began muttering to himself and turned around, his attention stolen by some idea that must've popped in his head.

Rose watched him silently for a few moments. She had no idea what he was doing, but it somehow gave off the impression that it was important. The princess leaned in a little towards him. "Moe? What are you doing?" she said softly, almost at a whisper, trying not to break his concentration.

* * *

"I'm trying to see what I can..." Moe glanced over his shoulder and surprised himself when he saw Rose's face there instead of the usual Curly or Larry. "Huh?" In the split of a second Moses questioned anything and everything that had to do with the Swan Princess being in his dorm room and then answering every one of them in the following split when his memory filled in the blanks. "Er.. tweets. Uh, sort of like text messaging but with a wider reach centered around a social media site known as Twitter. It's supposed to be a play on bird language or vocal sounds."

First question answered, Moses moved to the next — he had heard and registered it all even while he was focused on other things. "I was thinking that," he indicated his immediate screen and then to the others that were situated around them, "if I could figure out the general magical concept of witch-communication, I could somehow incorporate that into the mail bot to sort of do what you were suggesting. The detect and carry, but faster. See," Mose's hand went up to one specific monitor where several pictorials and sketches indicated the magic he was referring to, where scripts in old Latin and some in old English described the whats-its of the hocuspocus. "With this one a witch speaks the incantation and the message poofs over to the receiver wherever he is in a blink of time. Then," he swiveled over to another monitor on the opposite side, "the message burns up as if it never was once it's been read by the intended receiver. The problem is..." He turned around to look at her. "Magic always has a cost, which is all well and good for a witch but for someone like you and me, hard to do and dangerous." Long story short. "I'm trying to figure out a way to recreate that or something similar with simpler or less dangerous magic so that something like this delivery system could be used by the less magically inclined."

While was a well-established part of their world, there were only some who could actually wield magic. And then even among those, there were some who could only work certain aspects of magic. Take himself, for example. Moe was a magic wielder. There were any number of things he was capable of doing. But there was a hitch to his magical wagon wheel — Moe required a wisher. None of his magic could he work on himself or for himself. While he had the freewill to choose whether or not he wanted to grant a wish, he still needed another person to be the receiver of the magical outcome. Basically, if he wanted to send a message, he had to do it the old fashioned way; email.

* * *

"Text messages with a wider reach? But what's the point of that when you can just send texts from your phone to multiple people at once?" This was why Rose had never seen the point in computers – why do something electronically when there is already an existing way to do it?

The pictures of the old scripts he showed her, however, quickly stole her attention. This was something she could grasp. "Hm… I can actually read Latin, as well as Middle and Old English. I could help you with these scripts if you ever need it." Possibly a useless offer, seeing as there were probably translating programs for that. Rose was vaguely aware that a lot of people used 'Google Translate' instead of a dictionary these days. She could never understand what people complained about – dictionaries were not hard to use at all. Once you get used to it, you can pretty much open it on the page you need on the first try.

So he was looking for a way to make it so non-magic people could still use it... A wrinkle appeared between the princess' eyebrows as she thought over this problem. "Won't a trigger do it? A simpler teleportation or even a summoning spell, but with something of a homing beacon? If you can somehow make a magical connection between two specific objects, one if which is small enough to be carried on one's person, there shouldn't be a problem to have one appear next to the other by pressing a button or saying a word to activate the summoning. Or is the magic cost the problem? Because if so, it could theoretically run on a sort of magical battery. Something the person can use to pay the price of magic without having any of their own? But what would that be… magical essence? Is that possible, to trap magic in a jar, then somehow use magi-tech to direct it?" Probably not. Her mind was running away with her.

* * *

He would have to give her an indepth lesson about social media, Moses noted. He hadn't agreed, verbally, to help her out, but his actions spoke of his agreement. If Rose were able to get in his head and read him, she would see that he was already in the process of teaching her or planning to teach her. "Uh, think more of a global reach," he replied. His comment was distracted because his mind was still actively focused on the electronic mail machine she put him on.

"I know my Latin, but I might take you up on the Old English." Seriously, Moses thought he spoke English. He knew languages evolved but it wasn't until he ran into some Old English documents that he was able to understand the meaning of language evolution. Because Old English sounded more like Gobbledeegook rather than English.

"Teleportations and summoning spells cost a lot, magically and financially. Plus, they're all one-offs," he explained. "And you're right about the magical connections. But you are also correct about them having to be specific. What allows for such specifics in magic is the wielder. The person making and handling the magic is the one who carries the specifics for the spell. For non-magical wielders, there is no magic and therefore no power for them to keep to specifics. That's where, I think or hope, I can make a program for it." This had been what Moe's been attempting for a while now. It is what he had been working on, getting closer and closer to succeeding with. His drones and photography instruments work to a certain degree in that respect. Magic and Machine. That was his dream.

"If I can blend the magic with the code, I think I can compensate for the lack of magic-wielder."

* * *

Rose made a mental note to check out an Old English Dictionary from the Library and brush up. The annoying thing about Old English was that there were about a million dialects, and while Middle English had somehow gotten to a solid grammar structure, Old English just sort of did its own thing, which was why it was such a pain to translate. Rose could translate a page from French in about ten minutes. A page of Old English would take a week.

"Call me if you need to," she said, giving him a slight smile. "Curly has my number. Oh, or you could e-mail me!" Her eyes sparkled at the prospect. Then a thought hit her – she'd have to open it from the Library. "Erm… I know that laptops are portable computers, but can you tell me what I should be looking for when buying one? Does the brand make a difference? I can't tell a good from a bad one." Rose had seen an electronics store in town. They were bound to have laptops.

"Financially?" Rose raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You can  _buy_ magic spells?" Having no experience with magic at all, this was news to her. This was probably for people who could use them, though. Then the princess looked helplessly to the monitors. "I wish there was something I could do to help you with this, but this code might as well be in Arabic. Sounds like a terribly complicated thing to do, though. You'd have to take into account a million variables and it somehow needs to be self-updating to course-correct for anything unexpected." Just thinking about all the things that would have to be taken into account made her head hurt a little. If he could actually pull this off… she'd have no choice but to start calling him a genius too.

* * *

Moe's face broke out into a big grin. "Or I could email you," he agreed. He didn't usually see things or people in the descriptive of 'cute' but at that moment, seeing Rose's enthusiasm about her new communication platform, he would say she fit that description perfectly.

His distinctive eyebrows raised to cover the span of his forehead and meet his hairline. He was surprised she thought he would just let her pick out a laptop when she clearly didn't know what she was doing. "I'll order a laptop for you. Then I can teach you why it's the best one." He was the teacher now. Moses would not have his student use anything less than the best. Of course, he planned to fiddle with the laptop she would get. There were no commercial ones out there that could be better than what Moses could build for her. "I can have it ready for you in a few weeks." Already, on another monitor, he was going through a search for the right materials he needed to set up her new laptop. Rose had asked for his help. Maybe he was a little aggressive and controlling about it but this was where he thrived. Computers. Electronics. Tech. They were his area, his zone. This was where he was king.

Moe's fingers stalled on the keyboard and a second later, he was turning around to face her. "You're a princess," he said, his confusion evident. "And your family doesn't control their magic, right?" he asked. There were plenty of kingdoms that employed wizards and witches, druids and such other forms of magic manipulators for protects and healing. Things along those lines. And there were a few magical entrepreneurs at the school who made and sold a number of concoctions to other students. If Moe thought about it, the Swan Princess's ignorance sort of made sense. This was her first school and she was a freshman.

It seemed there was a lot he and the guys needed to teach her. There were things she just had to know. Moses made a mental note to talk with the guys about his concerns. Now he was starting to realize just why it was his best friend wanted to take Rose under his wing. "Code's my language." He shrugged. "Don't know why, but I've always been able to get it."

* * *

"You would do that?" Rose said, both surprised and a little touched that he was willing to go out of his way like that; he wasn't under any obligation to do so. She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you. I don't have my wallet on me right now, but you can include the price in that e-mail, I'll come by to give you the money as soon as I can."

His question about her family took her by surprise, and her whole body stiffened. "My, erm, my family doesn't really have the best track record with magic," Rose admitted, looking away. "A sorcerer tried to force my mother to marry him, and my father had to kill him to rescue her. So neither of them is very fond of magic. We don't have a court mage or anything like that." Magic wasn't outlawed in Oloria or anything, but it was frowned upon a little bit. It's what happens when an evil sorcerer tries to take over your country with it. People were naturally weary.

Her eyes soared to meet his again when he compared code to a language. She had never thought about it like that. To her, it was all an incomprehensible mess of symbols, but it just sort of struck her that that was what any language was. The thought that something this simple and obvious had somehow escaped her until now was somehow really funny, and it made her laugh. Not a loud, bombastic laugh, but still a genuine one. "I can't believe I've never thought of that before! How ironic is it that I speak multiple languages, yet have never tried to approach a code as such." Rose was good with languages. Especially the so-called 'Romantic languages' which all had their roots in Latin.

* * *

Moe thought about shrugging off Rose's offer to pay but thought better of it. She was starting to be a girl again and those warning bells were going off in his head.  ** _Feminist! Feminist!_**  It said. Moses North didn't know if Rose, the Swan Princess of Oloria, held feminist views specifically or not, but to be on the safe, keep-on-living side of being a guy, he would treat her as if she did. And what did feminists bitch about? Equality. Like being able to open their own doors and pay their own bills and what-not. They didn't care if a guy was just trying to be nice. And nevermind that to be truly equal was to be exactly the same and there wasn't a single being on the planet that was exactly the same. But, that's what they wanted and if they didn't get it, they got kind of mean so, just in case Rose was that kind of crazy-girl, he just nodded. If she really wanted to pay him for it, okay. And if Curly gave him a hard time for taking her money, Moe would just step on the guy's foot.

**Oh shit!** Those same warning bells intensified by the power of ten and started flashing red when he noticed Rose tense.  ** _Oh shit! Oh shit!_**  Somewhere he fucked up. Somehow he went and did something wrong and now the girl was upset. Because Rose was full on  **girl mode**  now!  ** _Girl! Girl!_**  his brain screamed.  ** _Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Ooooh shit! Tears! Tears!_**  If she started to cry, Moe would pass out or something. It was  **girl-emotions**  from  **emotional-girl**  with their  **crazy, frightening girl-ness.**  Moses choked on the 'oh' he tried to get out in response. His eyes shot to the door of his room, praying to the fucking gods that right at that moment Curly or Larry would show up, or the fucking place would catch on fire so he wouldn't have to figure out how to make her not freak out on him.  _Girl Cooties!_ What the hell was he going to do?

Moe flinched when she looked over at him so quickly and his eye started to twitch like an epileptic after the strobe lights get turned on.

And then she started to laugh. Just like that, snap of the fingers and bam from one crazy, insane girl-emotion to the next, on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. From happy to sad to happy again. How was that not horrifying to anyone else? See! This was why he shouldn't be allowed with a girl all by himself. Somehow he messes up and then he's stuck with a scary  **girl!** Yes, he found them attractive and beautiful. Yes, he did suffer from the need to carry a really big binder in front of his crotch everyday. And from a distance girls were awesome. But up close, in a room, they were scarier than any monster in the known universe, worlds, and dimensions. Moe was convinced that somewhere along the line a psychologist discovered that being female was like being schizophrenic. And then the females found out, killed him, and burned his shit to the ground. "Uh-huh," Moe agreed, trying and failing to return her smile. His looked more like he was in pain or suffering a stroke.

He would never get laid. Never. Moses was doomed to be a 100 year old virgin, and that was a problem for him until he actually ended up alone with a girl.

* * *

Rose's smile faded, replaced by concern. "… Are you okay?" she asked gently. He didn't look so well. Her mind raced back to figure out where and when something had gone wrong, but came up with nothing. He was perfectly fine one minute, then started acting like she'd pulled a knife out on him the next. Either he suddenly got a brain aneurysm or… she had messed up somewhere.

The thought saddened her a bit. She had just gotten him to relax somehow, and now it felt like she'd pushed him into some sort of corner again. And then it occurred to her that he was a magic-wielder himself, and she had just told him of her family's stance on magic. She had probably spooked him with all that 'killing sorcerers' talk.

"Listen," she started, straightening up a little, "just because a magic-wielder did some bad things, that doesn't mean that I think they— _you_ are all bad. Magic… it's just a tool. How it's used depends entirely on the person. Yes, there are some bad, dangerous people out there, but I know that you're not one of them. Finding out you had magic didn't change my opinion of you, and I'm sure that the same would be true of anyone with a brain. So if any of what I said is bothering you, I promise you that if you were ever to visit Oloria, no one would dare say anything against you unless they want to find out what the inside of a jail cell looks like," she finished firmly.

Rose had no idea how much – if at all – her words would reach him, but it was the truth, and she felt like she had to say it.

* * *

"Uh..." ** _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._**  "No! N-n-no. No. I-I.." Moe shook his head with a jerk of desperation. "Tha-... No. That's-that's not..."  ** _Fuck._**  Curly was going to kill him. "Uh... No, I... That's not..."  ** _Fuck._**  Moses hated himself. Really. Why couldn't he just talk. Normal. Like everyone else! "No. I—" With a quick, powerful thrust, Moe was on his feet, his hands in his hair, scratching his head, pulling his hair. He was trying and panicking, because he couldn't get the words out. He had messed up. ** _Again._**  Again, and now Rose was blaming herself for something he did not understand. An offense he did not take and all he needed to do was tell her and he couldn't get the damned words out of his mouth without stuttering and messing it up!

No longer did words leave his lips but only that of a general sound, a mashed, not quiet mumbled, string of repeated syllables that did not breach his firmly pressed, thinned lips. The words. The words. He just needed to put it together completely and say them. He just needed to say them. Why could he  **think** his explanation, coordinate his thought to form his apology but not have the ability to  **speak them!**

_No! No! No!_ Without realizing, he lost his connection with the world and became buried in his head. In the room he stood in one place, in his tiny, tight computer space, and rocked ever so slightly. The hands that were previously in his hair were fidgeting before him as he rocked. Rubbing against one another, picking at the nails, coming to his lips for a nervous nibble, then down again, rubbing.

In his head, Moe couldn't stop thinking. He couldn't stop trying to solve his problem. This was a problem. Moses had worried Rose. He had made her feel guilty and tense. Now Rose wasn't a girl. She was a problem.  ** _No, no._**  That wasn't right. Rose was a girl but she wasn't the problem. The problem was him. He needed to tell her. He needed to communicate. How could he communicate if he couldn't speak the words. How could he communicate without the right language.

**_Language. Language._**  That was it.  ** _Language._**  What was his language? She had said it before that she hadn't thought of code as a language. At the time he had only said it because it was simplest way of explaining was code was to him in a way that a layperson could understand. It had worked for Curly and Larry, so why not work for Rose? Even if it wasn't completely accurate. But that was then. This was now, and now it was a language. Yes it was!

With another powerful, sudden movement, Moses was back in his seat, facing his computer, his fingers rapidly tapping away at his key board. Within moments, he was done. Moe turned then, to the princess, the one who needed to know the truth and read his apology. And he pointed, jerked his finger in the direction of the monitor next to her. But it wasn't just the one next to her. It was all of them. All of them had the words typed out that he couldn't speak, that his mouth wouldn't form. On all of them was his apology to her about their miscommunication.

**_"It's not your fault,"_**  the words said.  ** _"I wasn't offended. You are a girl and I'm sorry. I thought you were going to cry. I know about the sorcerer and what happened to your family. I read about you and I'm sorry. I wasn't offended. I thought you were going to cry but you didn't cry and then you laughed and ... you're a girl. I'm sorry. I am an asshole. Curly will kick my ass now. But I'm sorry I made you feel guilty."_**

And then, just underneath all of that was a little extra note that read:

**_"P.S. The gun is really cool. Thank you."_ **

* * *

The mild concern Rose felt for him when he stopped responding turned into surprise as Moe shot up to his feet. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and she had no idea what she had done to trigger it. The meaningless sounds coming out of his mouth only served to send her into a panic, and she stood up as well, unsure of what to do or how to help him.

"Moe?" she tried, though he didn't look like he'd heard it. "Moe, are you okay? Please, try to calm down."

None of it seems to reach him, and the princess wrung her hands nervously. He was starting to really scare her. What was happening to him? She thought briefly of reaching out to touch him, but that would most likely send him spiraling even further down whatever pit his mind was heading. Desperation began to creep up her stomach as her mind raced to find some way to help him but came up empty. Then she suddenly got an idea, and her hand reached down her pocket for her phone. She had to call Curly, she had to ask him what to do. If anyone knew how to bring Moe out of whatever funk this was, it would be him.

But before she had even managed to pull the phone out, Moe shot past her and sat back down in his chair, and she heard the rapid sounds of fingers tapping on keys. Then he pointed to the nearest monitor, and all of them shone with the light of his message. Rose looked around, trying to take it all in. Her throat tightened with emotion, but she bit back on it, hard. If she did start crying now, he would lose it for sure.

So instead Rose walked calmly back to the chair, sat down and pulled the keyboard closer. Pressing the Enter key to start a new line, she typed out her own message under his, though it was not as fast.

**_"You are not an asshole. If anything, I think you're really sweet. You offered to help me without asking for anything in return, don't think I failed to take note of that. I am a girl, but despite what you may have inferred from Halloween, I don't cry easily. I'm sorry that I misunderstood, you are just very confusing. One second you were fine, and the next you looked like you were going to be sick. Then you freaked out the way you did, and I had no idea how to help you. Are you okay now?_ **

**_I'm sorry if I freaked you out. I can be more contained around you; all you have to do is say the word._ **

**_PS: You're welcome. I thought it might be something you'd find fun to tinker with. The man in the shop told me it used to belong to Davey Jones, but I don't know how much stock I'd put in that claim._ ** **"**

* * *

Moe grunted in response to the very first line. They would both just have to agree to disagree on that one. After what a jackass he'd been about the gifts and then making her emotionally unstable, Curly would definitely consider him an asshole. And Larry. If not an asshole then a douche bag which was basically just as ass-tastic as the first. Moses mentally settled his debate and read on.

Instantly color bloomed across his face; she called him sweet and then gave him credit for something he didn't deserve. Apparently when girls went emotional, their memory got messed up because he was certain she had  _asked_ him for help. All he did was do what she asked. Nothing that needed compensation. Moe pulled himself over to her with his long legs and large clown feet, not noticing the close proximity to  **girl** Rose once again. Then he started tapping.

**" _It wouldn't be_** **help**   _ **if you paid me. It would be**  _ **hire _._ "**

His face reddened again as he went on.

_**"And you can't be friends with your employee."**_ Moses paused only a moment, like he was letting that sink in with her before he went on. He wasn't worrying about being right next to her, hardly aware of it, but at the same time knew that she was right there to read everything he typed as he typed. In a way, Moe was typing like he would if he were actually speaking to her directly instead; saying and responding to what she said, nearly line by line, reaction by reaction, and then letting her mark, catalogue and file it away. But there was also another reason for his pausing; it gave him time to think and decide if, what, and how he was going to respond, reply, and share.

Like about how this wasn't the first time he'd lost it like that. If they were facing each other and if he was trying to speak with his mouth and his voice, there would have been no way Moses would have been even remotely comfortable enough to share anything a little bit personal. He would have been too busy trying to form the word. No. He would have been too busy being uncomfortable. But sitting at his desk, looking at the monitor, with his fingers tapping away at his keys, there was none of that. He could never be uncomfortable for long when he was at the computer.

_**"I used to freak out a lot more before I met Curly and Larry,"**_ he typed with only a slight but acceptable hesitation anyone would feel about sharing something personal and vulnerable.  _ **"Before them I didn't have friends."**_ Not an exaggeration. Moe had exactly zero friends before his two best ones.  _ **"I liked taking working things and opening them up to see how they functioned. The other kids didn't like me breaking their toys. In school I could do math really well, and marked above average in language skills even though I didn't talk to anyone except my parents. Then one of my teachers caught me writing binary code in my notebook during class, and everyone freaked out. They didn't know it was computer code. They thought I was autistic. If you ask some of my doctors, they would still say I am.**_ **High Functioning**   ** _they call it. I tried to talk to them when they said it was one of the markers for the disorder, but I kept stuttering and couldn't get the words out."_**

A hard shiver ran up Moe's back as the memories rushed in, but he shook them off and refocused.  _ **"Writing non-sense, inability to communicate properly, contact avoidance and sensitivities, they said, were all signs of a classic case of autism. They were going to send me to another school for special needs."**_ He sighed heavily, the weight of the experience eliciting a physical reaction while his mind barely noticed and his fingers flew.  _ **"My parents almost gave in but at the last minute decided not to and instead sent me off to a summer camp for geek-freaks. That's where I met Larry and Curly. They were the first ones to understand that I wasn't helpless. They don't get all the computer stuff all the time, but they're really smart. Larry's kind of like me but he can handle people better than me. He does the same thing I do with computers but with books. Curly's a little different but he kind of acts like our bridge and our anchor to the other world. The normal one that everyone else lives in and we only visit when we have to. And he's annoying about it but,"**_ Moses smiled. For all the emotions that flitted across his face while he typed, this was the first time he really smiled.  ** _"He fixed us. Still is. You aren't his first pet project. We are. And he won't ever stop. That's the thing about him; once he takes you in, you are in for life and he will do anything for you whether you want him to or not."_**

Moses looked at Rose then, still smiling, understanding in his gray eyes. Without turning back to the screen he typed:  ** _"We're special."_  ** _In the head_ , he added silently, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Remembering there was something else he wanted to say, too, he looked back at the monitor and added.  ** _"You shouldn't contain yourself for me. Curly wouldn't like that and that's not fair to you. Sounds like being a girl is hard too, like really hard. Harder than being a guy. It's hard but I think I'd kill myself or something if I had to have so many emotions. Horrible. You're like a"_**

**STOP!**  his brain screamed, and his fingers stopped before he continued that sentence. Yes, he was currently at peace with girl-Rose but his survival instincts still worked, on high alert. He might have forgotten girl-presence for a moment but that one basic instinct did not. If he continued on with that sentence like it was in his head, he had a gut feeling she would have snapped his head off with one of those very same, uncontained girl-emotions.

Too late to delete so...  _ **"very nice girl."**_ And quick subject change.  _ **"Davy Jones sounds cool! Can't wait to see what it can do."**_   _Phew! Nice save._ He patted himself on the back, figuratively; he was still in the girl-presence. Must tread lightly.

* * *

Usually, if someone came this close to her Rose would pull away – the number of people she allowed in her personal space could be counted on one hand. Still, when Moe drew closer she knew it was to type, and the whole proximity issue got pushed to the back of her mind as her eyes followed the words forming on the screen.

She could almost feel her heart tremble with sympathy for him as he recounted his school days. The sheltered princess had no idea kids (or adults) could be this judgemental – she had never been to a normal school. When he started talking about Larry and Curly, a small, fond smile formed on her lips. Her eyes darted to him for a second, and the look on his face told it all – his friends meant more to him than anything. The friendship between the three of them was truly touching.

When he was finished Rose took a second to absorb it all, and then put her fingers back to the keys.

**" _First off, I didn't mention anything about money until halfway through the conversation, but you can look at this that way if you want. Secondly, why should people be allowed to have affairs with their employees, but I'm not allowed to be friends with mine?_ "** A small joke, but she hoped he would get it. It was surprisingly hard to convey tone of voice over text.

**" _Curly is my very first friend too, so I guess we have that in common. It's awful how those teachers acted with you, but I'm glad that at least you ended up finding someone who understands. I can't really imagine what it must've been like; I wasn't around kids growing up. My parents were too afraid to let me go to school, so I got private tutors. The servants' children weren't allowed to talk to me, and the very few visiting royalty I met for only a few hours and under strict supervision. I had nothing to do all day but roam the empty hallways and the rose gardens. That's why I speak several languages and why I play a few instruments. All my life it's just been me and my books._ "**

Her fingers hovered over the keys. It wasn't that telling him what she was about to type was hard, it was that admitting the whole thing out loud felt like swallowing a very bitter pill.  **" _Until I met Curly, I didn't even realise how lonely I'd been all this time. I know I'm not his first project... and that I'll likely not be the last. You're right, you and Larry, you are special. But it's different with me. I'm not,"_** _she hesitated for only a second,_ ** _"a real person. I'm just a doll, dressed up and bred to behave a certain way. I have no personality outside of what I'm supposed to be, and I barely have an idea about how to act outside of that. Curly is my friend for one reason and one reason only – because I don't have anyone else. It's in his nature to want to help people, and I get that._ "** Rose shrugged. It was just the way things were, and she was fine with it.  **" _I'm just grateful he's giving me the time of day at all._ "**

When her eyes got to the last paragraph, she couldn't help a small derisive noise, trying to hold back a laugh.

**" _Nice like a ticking time bomb, you mean. It's not a problem for me to hold back, it's what I've done ever since I can remember. I don't want you to feel like you're walking on eggshells around me. And you need to stop worrying about what Curly would say or how he'd react to the way you're talking to me. He doesn't own me, or you for that matter. What we do when he's not around is not any of his business. As for the Davy Jones thing, I really don't know if it's true or not. And I'm afraid it doesn't really do much at the moment, it's just an old gun. I suppose you could get it to function though, you_ are  _a genius._ "**

* * *

Like she'd done with him, Moe read as she typed, taking every word she wrote and letting it sink in. When Curly had first asked him to look Rose up, he'd read everything he could find. He wasn't being nosy. Just unavoidable when gathering information. But this was different. Somehow, reading what happened to her, what her life was like directly from her, gave the words a different meaning to him. This wasn't just information equal to what he could get on the specs for a new toy, something detached and simple fact. There was nothing simple about what Rose was telling him. They had both been lonely but Rose made it sound like she'd been isolated. When it came to people he didn't understand much. Even less when it came to girls. But on this, even though he couldn't fully comprehend what she felt, he did know a little about being lonely.

He refrained from typing anything until he'd read the whole message. The last part had him smiling, letting out a small chuckle. But when he pulled the keyboard back to him, Moses became serious once again. While he'd been reading her story, there had been a couple of times when he'd wanted to blurt out his feelings; express his displeasure, criticize her family, scold her for being so wrong about herself. Moe didn't, of course, but that he had the urge to  _speak_ those words to her was significant.

Moses started typing, but his fingers were slow, thoughtful.  **" _I don't think you give yourself enough credit._ " **He turned to give her a small smile, then continued. **" _You bought us gifts. You said you'd never bought gifts before, remember? Dolls don't do anything unless someone else makes them._ " **He wasn't going to pretend like he didn't know how dolls worked. There may have been a couple of incidents where a doll or two was picked up to play a certain game called house. And they may or may not have been Barbies.

Named Chelsea and Amanda.

_**"And I don't believe the only reason you are Curly's friend is because he's the only one. What about Larry?"**  _Moe paused as a blush began creeping up to his ears.  ** _"What about me?"_**

* * *

Rose smiled faintly, taking over the keyboard again.

**" _That's just the thing. Seeing the three of you and how close you are, how real and strong the friendship between you is, it inspires me. It makes me want to be more than what I am, makes me want to be real too. Lately I've started doing a lot of things that never would have crossed my mind before. I'm trying to find out who I am without the title of 'Princess' attached to my name. It doesn't always work out, but I think I've had a few genuine moments so far._**

**" _As for Curly's reasons, there is no need to defend them. I don't hold it against him, I'm just saying it like it is. The only reason he speaks to me is because no one else does. When you approached me at the Halloween party, it was because he told you to do it, wasn't it? It's okay to say so, I won't get upset. Larry is very nice, but he's like that with everyone, especially girls. He's very_ …"** Rose chuckled softly, **" _princely. And you… Do you want to be my friend?"_** The princess paused, unsure of whether or not to ask the question whose answer she already knew. She did it anyway.  ** _"Why?"_**

* * *

"What?" Moe said to the screen, breaking the silence of their new communication. His voice sounded scratchy from the disuse, but it often did because he was quiet much of his time. Obviously confused by her words, Moses turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed, assessing. Rose was now a girl-puzzle, which was a basic and most obvious redundancy, but a very problematic redundancy.

Moses didn't stare for long. Just a brief moment to note that she at least didn't look like she was joking or pulling his leg.  ** _"Are you being serious?"_**  He had to ask again, and look at her again, before going on.  ** _"Is this some test? I've seen girls do that; test a guy just to trip him up and yell at him for being an idiot._** _**Are you asking me if your pants make your butt look fat? Because that's not fair."**_ The next look Moe threw at her was scolding and sad.

Frowning rather than glaring, Moe was looking back at the screen and typing his quick response, but the way his fingers hit the keys just a little harder, a little more forcefully, conveyed an edge he didn't often have. Not angry but disappointed, maybe. It was hard for him to label and accurately understand his feelings and reactions to what Rose had said. Curly had been right; Rose was a little screwed up and it made Moses sad.

**" _Yes, I_  am  _your friend._ "** First time he thought it/said it but it felt right to him.  ** _"Because, yes, my best friends like you. But also because you are nice and are a good person. Because, I thought, you wanted to be my friend too. I know it was your first time but giving a person a gift because you thought it would be nice and you thought they would like it, means you are friends. Staying here and trying to talk to me after I freaked out on you, makes you a friend. And I'm helping you with computers now. We're going to spend some time together. Would be awkward not being friends right? More awkward, since we are both awkward and weird, it's a staple of our being."_**  Moe's mouth pulled up in the corner. Still frowning but it was softened by the humor.  ** _"FYI, there are a lot of people at this school who could have been the person Curly wanted to talk to. But he chose you. He met you and liked you and wanted to be your friend. Same with Larry, plus. Do you really see Larry talking to a bunch of girls? No way."_**

* * *

The word he said out loud almost made her jump. Then all she could do was blink in confusion as he frowned and started typing, perhaps not angrily, but definitely a bit frustrated. The confusion only deepened as she read his words. Was he mad at her for something?

**_"What are you talking about?"_** she wrote.  ** _"Why would I, or anyone else for that matter, set you up just to yell at you? What would be the point of such a thing? What is it supposed to test?"_**  It honesty baffled her. People didn't really do that, did they? No one had done it to her yet. And what did pants have to do with anything?

But, one sentence had snagged her attention as she had read his words and when she continued, she mostly concentrated on that.

**_"And yes, I_** **do _want us to be friends. I think you're smart and creative, and you have such interesting ideas. I'm just not sure how it works, exactly. I don't have a vast experience with these things, Curly is usually the one to initiate everything. But just so there are no more misunderstandings between us, are you mad at me? You look frustrated, tell me how I triggered it."_**  If they really were friends – Rose felt her heart flutter at the thought – she had to get him to tell her when she did something wrong so she could adjust accordingly.

Rose just sighed at the last bit. She knew Moe would try to justify his friends, but she also didn't feel like this needed to be sugar-coated. Yes, Curly chose her – because he deemed her in the most need of help. Yes, Larry wasn't exactly a ladies man, but he could be if he wanted to – it was mostly lack of effort on his part. However, Rose didn't feel like arguing these points. He would probably just keep insisting anyway.

**_"If you say so. I would just like to say that while it's true that Larry isn't exactly a people person and clearly thinks his time is better spent in books, if he has to talk to someone, he can definitely lay on the charm quite thick. So much so that I had to resort to telling him to quit it; all of that flowery language can be hard to stand."_** She huffed and wrinkled her nose. ** _"I think I hit my limit when he called me 'his angel' in French. What a cheesy, sappy, so-worn-it's-transparent line! The way he talks can be so panderingly frustrating sometimes!"_**

* * *

While she was still typing Moses had forgotten message-typing protocol in his immediate need to answer that he inserted his hands around hers and typed  ** _"Idk! But they do it. A lot!"_**  Moe understood her appalled reaction to that dirty trick girls played and he appreciated and noted the fact that she didn't have a clue or something. Good. That made Rose less of the crazier kind of girl that was basically everyone but his mother. Not that he would group Rose in with his mother. She was definitely not his mother, or like his mother, or anything that would every imply that he could picture Rose as his mom. And not that his mom wasn't cool or anything and someone Rose should be happy to be like, but somewhere in that idea it just felt really wrong and like something that would get him into a lot of trouble with Rose, or his mom. Or both of them.

When Rose turned to look at him and share that look that was often shared between individuals of the same mind or thought, Moses realized just exactly how close he was to her and pulled back abruptly. "Sorry," he muttered and sat back patiently while she finished the rest. His hands had itched a couple of times to interrupt and answer her, but he was more aware now and wouldn't be doing that again. But it was difficult and he was eager to have his turn.  ** _"I'm not mad at you. I just don't like how hard you are on yourself. I mean, it doesn't seem to completely bring you down into a depression, but you make yourself sound... idk. Like we are only being friends with you because you are a loser. Like our intentions aren't really honorable because you suck so we suck too and it's kind of... insulting. We want to be your friends, we chose you to be friends with and you are saying it doesn't count or it's not friendship because no one else wants to be your friend so we couldn't possibly?"_**  Moe looked at her with another frown, softer though it was. ** _"That's really a sad way to look at it."_**

Her description of Larry was only sort of correct and he felt a small need to defend his best buddy. So he did.  ** _"Larry is cheezy and sappy but not in the fake, stupid, pathetic way some people pretend to be. He wasn't throwing you a line. Larry is genuinely cheezy and sappy. It's part from his home life and part from the books he's all about. He believes in that older world where people were more reserved and guys courted girls. I'm not saying he's actually courting you but... chivalry and knights in armour with girl ribbons tied around their arms during tournaments and going off to war."_**  Moe looked at Rose sideways, debating for a moment if he was going to do one thing he knew he shouldn't do because there was the huge potential of getting in a lot of girl-trouble of the scary, frightening kind.

With a heavy, shoulder-sagging sigh, Moe decided and his fingers went with it.  ** _"Are you one of those feminist girls? The ones who freak out when a guy is being nice because it's some kind of affront to their feminine strength, independence and is somehow an insult to your intelligence while also insinuating that he is somehow better than you?"_**  It was a bad question. Bad. And his instincts were telling him that he was setting himself up in a very bad way.

* * *

Rose was so startled when his hands were suddenly on the keys as well, she completely froze in place. Only when he pulled away did she continue her message, giving him a quick smile and a quiet "It's okay," when he pulled back. He had just startled her, but she didn't want him to feel guilty about it again.

When he started his own message, Rose couldn't help feeling bad as her eyes slid along the words. She had never thought of it as insulting to them, or that it somehow made them seem fake. That was the exact opposite if how she felt! The princess had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying so, but held completely still, afraid she might spook him with an emotional outburst.

**" _No, you misunderstand me,_ "** she typed quickly, barely waiting for her turn.  **" _I don't think of it as sad, and I do believe that your intentions are honourable, that was what I was trying to say! Any problems pertaining to my own person have nothing to do with you. Like I said, I appreciate that you three do still willingly talk to me despite all that. And what you're saying about Larry..."_** She stopped for a moment, remembering their meeting in the Infirmary. She recalled what she had thought then, how he  _sounded_ like her servants when they showered her in compliments, but there was something different in his eyes. Something warmer. Rose smiled.  **" _I agree with you. I said his speech can get grating, but I know it comes from a genuine place. I really do. I only meant to say that he can charm a lot of girls this way, if he only wished to do so. That sappiness almost makes me roll my eyes sometimes, but it's the sincerity of it that keeps me from actually doing it. It's what I like about him, and about Curly as well. They don't pretend or try to butter me up like my servants or the nobles of my court. They're real._ "** She stopped and looked at him for a moment.  **" _And you're real too. Even if those freak outs or your stutter embarrass you... it's a genuine reaction. It's something that... only you would do? I'm not sure how to word this, exactly. I'm not really used to this, because back home everyone is very... measured. Especially me. There are certain things one does or does not do in certain company, things are are supposed to and not supposed to be said, and_ that  _is fake_**.  ** _That is what I'm trying not to be anymore. Larry actually said something to me a while back, and I find it to be true - Friends help you be less formal._**   ** _You help me be less stiff and more... like you. Genuine_."**  Rose wasn't sure she'd expressed herself correctly, despite the chunky paragraph. She just hoped that perhaps he would be able to grasp the essence of it, the important part: the three of them were not at fault in any way, and she was just grateful to have them in her life, because they made it, made  _her_ , better. No matter their reasons.

The last part was again something she only had a vague idea of.  **" _No, I'm not a feminist,"_** she wrote _._ ** _"And I'm not really sure how someone being nice would imply he is better or more intelligent and me. But, erm, I have a question. What does 'idk' mean?_ "**

* * *

The chuckle that came from deep in his chest sounded almost dark in nature, altering simple appreciation of her reply to a more complicated amusement. Either way, Moses agreed with her deduction and personal opinion of Larry's skills, now that he understood she was not being harsh on his best buddy.  ** _"He makes me roll my eyes all the time."_**  At that, Moe looked at her and made a show of rolling his eyes with a dramatic flare that was true to his true mentality; his inner monologues, diatribes, and overall reactions to his everyday were a pantomime of dramatics and extremes. Moe's internal spirit animal was a tragically serious Charlie Chaplain wrapped up in a Dodo bird.

He shared the grin that broke out over his face before returning to the screen and his continued reply.  ** _"I don't think you have a problem being genuine. You might be stiff or uncomfortable in certain situations you aren't familiar with, but that's normal. To me, the opposite of genuine is fake and you aren't fake. You express how you feel when it's appropriate, maybe sometimes when it's not. You make mistakes and aren't perfect even if you think you should be or aspire to be. You are imperfect. That sounds pretty real to me."_**  Moe smiled for a moment at his words, thinking he nailed his point. But then he started to reread them and realized that, for someone raised the way Rose had been, his words might sound insulting.

Worried and thinking through a way to fix this before she got too upset, his fingers hovered over his keyboard. Moses tried to think of ways to tell her, show her that he meant these things as compliments. He worried himself that his intentions would not mean anything to a person who valued and put stoke in being so proper and, well, perfect. Frowning in concentration, Moses chewed his bottom lip. Again he was having a freak out, but one ten times less severe. He did not have to worry about forming words, but only think of a solution. At first, he thought of diamonds, because they were shiny and beautiful and sought after. But then people preferred diamonds to have as few flaws as possible. Plus they were stones; cold and hard. Rose  **was not**  cold and hard. She was  **soft**  and  **warm.**  Images of bunnies popped into his head but he brushed them aside before he got too distracted trying to guess her spirit animal.  ** _No_** , he had to focus on explaining this better to her. How could he tell her she was good the way she was? How could he tell her that her imperfections made her perfect and real without sounding like a Hallmark card? How could he fix this?

After a moment, his fingers typed out three words:  ** _"I like real."_**  It was corny and not exactly the most intellectual thing he'd ever written but it was all he could think up. It was the most honest way he could tell her how he felt without thinking up stupid analogies that would probably not make any sense in the end. Moe made to push the keyboard over her her but then realized he hadn't answered her last question.  ** _"IDK = acronymic text talk for I don't know. I don't get the feminist freak out either."_**  Once that was all down, he gently pushed the board back over to her.

* * *

The way he rolled his eyes was really, really funny for some reason, but Rose tried not to laugh too loud.  _Tried_ being the operative word, because the sound tinkled in the silence, more noticeable than if they had been talking out loud, and she had to resort to putting a hand over her mouth to muffle it. A smile still lingered when she looked at him as he pushed the keyboard towards her, a clear sign that he wanted to continue this odd form of communication. Talking without talking, being in the same room without even looking at each other (for the most part), yet still carrying on a conversation. She had never done anything like this with another person before, yet still thought that it was somehow kind of... fun.

**_"That's because you've only seen me here, at the Academy,"_** she replied with a small sigh.  ** _"You don't know what I'm like back home. Here I can actually be myself from time to time, but back in the Olorian court things are not so easy. Trust me, there I do fit your definition of fake, like I have for most of my life. Proper decorum doesn't let you speak your mind most of the time, or act in a way you want. I am not perfect by any means, but I must_ appear  _to be. If someone gets the bright idea to try to impeach me, I must not give them grounds to do so. That would be catastrophic."_** Winning enough votes from the court members to actually have it go through was rather unlikely, but it was a distinct possibility, and Rose couldn't afford to take any chances. She was aware that her current freedom would be only temporary, but there was no point in dwelling on that.  ** _"I'm not really sure how it works in Oz,"_**  she typed as a way to get him to talk more about himself.  ** _"Your mother sort of rules over the North. That's Gillikin Country, isn't it? Is her position hereditary, or...?"_**

His (almost) last words left her at a loss for her own. They were only three short words, but she felt like the meaning behind them was more vast than it appeared. They felt like... acceptance. Rose hesitated, unsure of what to say. Then she looked to him, smiled slightly and simply typed,  ** _"I like real too."_**

* * *

Moe shrugged and easily typed the words written all over his face.  ** _"So you say."_**  He didn't agree with her, obviously. Rose was correct that he didn't know what she was like back home, but he didn't think just because she wasn't like that here meant that the way she was in one place and not the other meant one or both were the fake her. Life wasn't simple like that. People weren't simple like that. If they were, Moses wouldn't have such a hard time getting along.

People were complicated. Screwed up. A tangle of a mess. A mess made up of their childhoods and upbringings. Their experiences and lessons. What they learned from their elders and parents and what they were still learning for and by themselves. Sure there were some things that could be predictable about a person, but in general, there was no complete break to the code. There was nothing, not one thing, that could clearly define and set a person into an exact category.

But Moe could see Rose was going to be stubborn about her failings and, if he wanted her to understand eventually, he would have to take it a little bit at a time. _ **"Are you asking me if I'm a prince or something like Curly and Larry? 'Cause no. I'm not a prince and I'm not inheriting the North. Only a Good Witch will be heir to mom's seat."**_  He shrugged, obviously being alright with that idea. The way Moses was raised, there was only one Wizard of Oz. The North, South, East, and West were ruled by witches. Thankfully, they were all Good Witches at the moment. Had been so since the death of the Wicked Witches. But still ruled by witches all the same. Just the way it was, and Moe wasn't really eager to be ruling over anything. He was happy to be like his father, where people generally governed themselves and came to OZ when they needed advice or something.

For the most part, Moses was comfortable with Rose. Communicating with her via computer had put him at ease and rid him of enough anxiety that he could manage getting to know the girl beyond he fear of her gender. But then she looked at him like that. There was no helping the blush that suffused itself to the entirety of his face. From crown to neck, chest and shoulders, Moses North was redder than red.  ** _"Cool"_**  he typed.

* * *

Rose politely ignored the blush that crept on his face, though the smile did remain as she shrugged lightly at his response about Oz, drawing the keyboard closer.  **" _I knew you weren't. I'm just not sure how things work in different realms, my knowledge of them is only cursory. The more in-depth politics I've studied were my own country's, as well as the neighbouring Kingdoms_ _._ "** Oz, Wonderland and so forth were not relevant to Oloria, so they were not covered by her tutors.

Her eyes fell over the bottom right corner of the monitor, and Rose realised that she had been here for far longer than anticipated. This was only supposed to be a swift visit to leave their presents, but she had ended up lingering for so long… Rose shot a quick look at Moe. She didn't want to go yet, but there were things that needed her attention. Organizing her school bag and picking out her outfit for tomorrow, for starters, putting away the last of the things she had brought from Oloria (mostly books), having dinner…

**" _I have to go_** , **"**  she typed, then slowly stood up. "But, erm…" she spoke out loud, "this was nice. Talking to you, I mean. And thank you for…" Rose faltered again.  _For saying we are friends_ , she wanted to say, but it would come out so  _cheesy_ and only serve to embarrass both of them. Still wanting to finish the sentence in a way that rang true, she continued, "For helping with my computer problems, I probably would have gone the entire year without discovering that I even  _have_ an e-mail."  _Perhaps longer_ , she added mentally, circling his chair so she wouldn't make him uncomfortable by reaching over him, and took the sheet of paper he had printed out for her. "I appreciate it."

* * *

Moe stood automatically, a reflexive action based on her rise as well. Hearing her voice was almost like a slap to his brain. They had been communicating well and for a while without so much as a sound, other than the tap-tap-tap of keys, and now he was practically shocked into having to form the words vocally in order to reply.

A new blush creeped onto his face, first at the slight pause, and next for her mention of helping her. "Not-" Moe cleared his throat loudly, watching her pull the paper free. "No—you're welcome." His voice was the usual but he could still feel his words getting stuck in his throat. "I'll work on th-the mailer and email you? When-when I finish with your lap top. Then ma-maybe we can get," Voice crack. "Get together again and I'll show you how everything wor-ks."

* * *

Rose smiled at him happily. "I think I'd like that," she said honestly and walked to the door. Then she half-turned, hand on the handle, and inclined her head to where he had left the bags she brought. "Ship in a bottle for Larry, and the other for Curly," she reminded him gently. "Don't forget, okay?" It was her own fault for not even slipping a name tag in the bags, but she didn't want the gifts to get mixed up.

Then Rose gave him another quick smile and a small wave. "I'll look forward to your e-mail," she said and left the dorm.

* * *

"Yep-mm-uh-huh. Ye-ah-okay-buh... bye," Moe replied to the closed door. He'd stumbled over his words without getting it all out before Rose was gone. She left quickly. Like really fast, and it made Moses wonder if she had felt less comfortable than she had seemed. The thought was actually kind of comforting.

His eyes drifted back to the monitors that still held their conversation. The sight confused him but also filled him with a sense of hope. All those words that he couldn't get out of his mouth were written there in a conversation, a legitimate flow of communication that she reciprocated. Rose didn't laugh at him. She didn't reject him. She joined him! Talked with him, the way he could and didn't once make him feel like a total tool for not doing it the other way.

Moe had issues when it came to girls, there was no debating that, but Rose went up in his book by a factor of ten.


	13. Chapter 13

Larry shifted from one foot to the other and finally decided to let the pack on his back down to the floor. It wasn't particularly heavy, but he had never been one for backpacks, and that might have had something to do with his upbringing or it was just in his nature not to like something on his shoulders. It was around nine-thirty, his and Rose's predetermined meeting time. School was letting out for the weekend, so if this search ran all night, at least the pair wouldn't miss any class time or sleep through it.

He wasn't exactly early, but leaving the Stooges' dorm without drawing suspicion whilst being fully dressed and carrying a bag was hard, to say the least. So he had planned it out. The best idea was to not go back to his shared dorm in the evening at all. Leaving his bag in a hiding spot—any sort of large plant was easy to manipulate—and going through class, Larry claimed the pack before sneaking down into the basement.

Where he was now.

There was a little voice in his head—it sounded a bit like the version of him that thought he was going to get axe-murdered on Halloween—that was telling him he ought to have let someone know they were going into the catacombs. Being saved by his friends from a bizarre death at the fangs and legs of a gigantic spider had left him with a healthier respect for his own self-preservation.

Yet, somehow, here he was. Larry suppressed a sigh at the thought that if anything went wrong, they were pretty much on their own. And also at the thought that he was here as support for Rose and that anything else wasn't really worth thinking about.

* * *

Rose walked between the tall stone pillars uneasily, her hands tightly gripping the strap of her school bag, which at the moment did not contain books but three balls of grey yarn, two flashlights, back-up batteries and a few energy bars.

She had a bad feeling about this, and the fact that she hadn't told Curly only intensified it. He would probably not like it that she was keeping things from him again, judging by his reaction when he found out she had told Larry about the dreams and not him. But she didn't have any classes with him today, and she couldn't just hunt him down to tell him! Though, when he found out about this – and he undoubtedly would, eventually – he would not be happy. Rose bit her lip and, overcome by guilt, shot him a quick text –  _Down in the Catacombs with Larry. Probably won't have signal until morning_. It was doubtful that he would see it tonight, but it was something.

Nearing the entrance to the bottom levels, she found Larry already waiting for her, and the sight of him eased the tight knot in her stomach. "I hope you didn't wait long," she said, greeting him with a smile. Then she reached inside her bag and took out one of the yarn balls, finding the end of it and looping it around the nearest column, then tying it in a secure knot. "There. This way we won't get lost. Hopefully."

* * *

"Not at all," Larry said in answer, smiling back at Rose. He watched what she did with the yarn and nearly palmed his face. Why hadn't he thought of something like that? His pack was mostly... well, he almost didn't have the right words, because some of the tools were unfamiliar to him. But there was a hammer and rope. He knew that.

"Hopefully not. I would hate to die down here only to inconvenience people like Ms. Hook," he said, not knowing if Rose had met the fiery rogue. Honestly, he had only done so in passing, but the no-exploring rule for the catacombs that was really more of a don't-get-caught-in-the-off-limits-zone thing seemed to be enforced in part by the sea witch's daughter. He plucked at the gray yarn and said, "I wish I had grabbed more now. I have plenty of rope if we need it."

* * *

Rose frowned at the mention of her lab partner and the Rogues' second-in-command. "In all honesty, Ursula's convenience is very low on my list of priorities," she said, reaching down her bag for a flashlight. "Don't worry though," the princess added, giving him a slight smile. "I won't let you die." A rather bold statement, considering she was a hundred-something pound princess with no powers and virtually zero combat experience.

Rose walked over to the entrance to the lower levels and shone the light in her hand down the long, dark tunnel. "Are you sure about this?" she asked hesitantly. They really, really should not be here.

* * *

" _Oui_ ," Larry answered. "Lead the way, Rose."

He had snagged the spare flashlight when he saw it in her bag and lit it as they entered the tunnel. "So, explain it to me again? I know we're down here to investigate, but what are we going off of? Any landmarks I should be looking for?" Despite being slightly drowsy at the time when Rose told him about the nightmares, Larry remembered practically everything from their conversation in the Infirmary. They hadn't planned this excursion too long ago, but Larry hadn't been about to let her explore the Catacombs alone. Not when he had suggested it in the first place.

His contribution to the "plan" had actually been plans. The blue-print, floorplan kind of plan. He had most of the passages committed to memory, and what wasn't was folded neatly into a pouch on the backpack he wore. Larry focused the beam of his torch on the far wall they were nearing that would lead them to an slope down deeper beneath the school.

* * *

Trying to ignore her instinct to turn right around and go back to the dorm, Rose took in a deep breath and descended into the darkness, the ball of yarn slowly unravelling from her bag.

"I'm not sure what more to add," she said, fruitlessly trying to see beyond the few meters illuminated by the flashlight. "In the dream I just  _know_  where I'm going." The beam of light made an arch above them as she tried to get a better look at the tunnel. "I think… I think we need to go deeper. The tunnel in the dream looked older, more—" Rose stopped abruptly, struck by a sudden revelation. "Water," she said quietly, then turned to look at Larry. "I remember hearing dripping water." A part of Andover which had a large amount of water at all time? The answer was obvious; the Catacombs must stretch under it.

* * *

Larry took two steps before realizing that Rose had stopped. He couldn't see her face for the light in her hand. " _Le fossé_ ," he said, thoughts going to the plans he had memorized, "The only place with water above it is under the moat."

He took his two steps back to be able to see Rose again in the gloom. "It shouldn't take more than an hour to make it to the deeper section under the moat. There's a chance that some of the passages may have collapsed, or that the stairs have eroded." He wasn't trying to discourage the princess, but he wanted her to know that where he was sure of the floorplan, the reality could have degraded over the time that those were published. For Larry, preparedness was as good as he could get under a hundred feet of stone.

* * *

_As long as they're not flooded_ , Rose thought, trying to hide the fear that was creeping up her spine. Why did it have to be water?

"You know the way, then?" she said, peeking behind his shoulder at the seemingly endless shadows. "If your theory about the woman in my dream being real is correct, that chasm I keep ending up at should be accessible, shouldn't it? Otherwise why send dreams at all?" Not that Rose was fully convinced. She was positive she had never seen the red-headed woman before, but investigation was better than doing nothing, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand those constant nightmares.

"You don't… you don't think these catacombs are like  _Les Catacombes de Paris_ , do you?" Rose added once they started walking again. Ancient skeletons and hundreds of dead bodies were the last thing she wanted to find. "I mean… I've heard rumours, Andover wasn't always a school, but there shouldn't be anything… dangerous down here. Right?"

* * *

"I know the way," Larry reassured Rose, "And thanks to my parents general lack of a sense of direction, I'm a quick study." The smile that quirked his lips was over the memories of reading city maps to keep his parents from ending up in back alleys, robbed blind. It would have made sense for Belle to be better at gauging distance, but she was often caught up in the histories and architecture of buildings with his father to notice. "If she's real, she'll be there," Rose's travel-guide added before they continued.

He took his time answering her question as they rounded a corner and he kept his light trained down the path, thinking. On the one hand, he could say no and be wrong, or he could say yes and try and keep Rose from thinking about it unless they saw a skeleton. And, of course, the prince did neither. "Dangerous? Probably. But we faced a giant spider and won... what else could fate throw at us, really? As for  _Les Catacombes de Paris_ , didn't they find the  _Cour des Miracles_ there?" The toe of his shoe caught a random pebble and sent it skittering across the stone floor, and he made a face. "Rats are probably our biggest concern."

* * *

Rose threw him a sour look. "Don't bring that up," she groaned, wanting to just forget about the whole incident. "And the Court of Miracles was full of thieves and criminals!" Thinking she heard something, the princess quickly shone the light behind her, but all she saw was the same darkness as the one before them. Her eyes did make out other tunnels branching off in different directions and chambers in the walls, some even with metal grates. This place made Rose very, very nervous. "Why would anyone even  _be_ down these claustrophobic tunnels," she mused, then added under her breath, "Maybe we should have brought weapons." Though, what use would her bow be in such a cramped space?

* * *

Larry made a mock sound of derision, as if he were offended, "And what is so wrong with a den of thieves and criminals? They made their living honestly... stealing and burgling...?" He chuckled low in his throat, a sound that almost echoed in the tunnel. As the sound died away, he could almost taste the despondency that thickened as they descended. Rose's words broke the thinning of his nerves, and he answered, even if her question was rhetorical, "Certainly not the fun, wholesome atmosphere. Maybe they're mole-people, hoping you've come to be their queen." He also did a little murmuring under his breath, adding, "Won't they be so glad you brought a snack."

* * *

As they marched on, the air became significantly colder. Rose knew that they must be getting close; her dreams always left her cold to the bone. The memories made a chill run down her spine, and she could feel her resolve weakening. "Maybe… we should turn back. I don't know how much of the school's history you've read, but the moat circles what used to be a prison. What if the woman is an old inmate?" Okay, that didn't make much sense, but Rose was grasping at straws. "I mean, what are a few nightmares anyway? I can live with them, it's not like they're causing me physical harm."

They came to a large staircase leading further down. "I have a really bad feeling about this," she confessed, hesitating on the top step.

* * *

Larry continued to direct them on memory and didn't pay much attention to the chill in the air other than to stretch his sleeve over his fingers to warm them on his flashlight. Again, Rose's voice broke him out of his funk, but he realized that she had entered her own. He had taken the first step down and was looking back at the princess as she hesitated. Taking stock of his own internal courage reserves and comparing them to his reservations, Larry came away feeling like he had better reassure Rose.

"We're already here, Rose," he began, avoiding looking directly into her flashlight, "And whatever is down there, two-hundred year old mole-person or just someone needing help, those nightmares have to stop. Bad dreams are just as detrimental as sleep deprivation. You can do this, Rose. You helped Moe stop the acromantula and helped Curly get us back to the school. You're stronger than you think. I believe in you." Larry extended his free hand out to the princess, supportive and unafraid. His relationship with Curly and Moe had taught him that friendship lent strength when needed. That was something he couldn't have understood before meeting them.

"You aren't alone in this; we'll go together."

* * *

Larry was very, very wrong about her, but Rose didn't tell him so. So she threw a bottle at a spider, how was that impressive? Curly saved Larry's life. That, to her, was the most important, no, the  _only_ important thing. He was the hero, and Moe too, for trying to save her and pull her out of harm's way. The reason she came down here was to try to get rid of the nightmares, not because she was brave enough to investigate, but because she was too afraid to keep having them, keep reliving that terrible, cold feeling. It wasn't strength or courage pulling her forward right now – it was fear.

And now Larry.

Rose took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Together, then," she said, placing her hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. She wasn't used to this. Things like support and camaraderie were not part of her etiquette course, and friends… she didn't have many of those. It was a strange feeling, but the princess felt herself relaxing, even if it was only a little bit, and let Larry draw her into the unknown and lead her down the crumbling staircase.

"I think the mole-people might prefer you to be their king," she said in an attempt to distract herself from darker thoughts. "That was quite the speech; almost like you've rehearsed it. Remind me not to go against you in Speech and Debate Class."

* * *

" _Ensemble_ ," Larry agreed, glad that his words reached her somehow. Suddenly though, with Rose's squeeze of his hand, Larry realized he was treading in uncharted waters. Not the floorplan—he knew exactly where they were—but that he hadn't held hands with someone outside of his family and the other two Stooges—Curly frequently grabbed hands when he wanted to show his friends something, and there at the beginning, Larry wasn't going anywhere alone, so Moe was seized as well—and the prince was realizing that... this was a first. For a moment, the thought made him give Moe a run at deepest blush. His reaction mellowed as they descended the staircase, his good sense coming back to him. This hand-holding with Rose was like his hand-holding with Curly and Moe. The only difference was that she was... Rose.

"I've got a better offer from my own kingdom," he answered, "And a life above ground. The mole-people will just have to let us leave or face the wrath of two royal families." The Waltz family and the Desrosiers would likely pack quite a punch if they came at a threat together. "I took Speech and Debate because I thought I wasn't any good," the prince said with a chuckle, "I guess I won't fight falling asleep there so much."

The stairs seemed to stretch on forever, but when they were finally over, the tunnel the two teens found themselves in looked strangely… older, beginning to resemble a cavern. The passage before them split into four, each as identical as the next.

* * *

When they reached the bottom of the stairs Rose come to a hesitant stop, her eyes moving from one to the other. Casting her gaze down, she realised that the yarn ball had ended a while back without her noticing, but just as she was about to reach for the second one, a whisper sounded in her ear. Rose looked up, startled, and swung the flashlight in all directions, though the voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Everything else was drowned out as the sound grew louder, yet somehow still remaining unintelligible.

Her eyes fixed on the darkness before her and the light stilled. Without knowing what she was doing, Rose stepped forward, the hand holding the flashlight falling to her side. The words "Almost there," slipped from her own lips, though she barely comprehended their meaning. In something of a trance-like state, the princess walked forward and, without the slightest hesitation, took the second tunnel to the right.

* * *

Larry stopped as Rose did, their tethered hands keeping him from walking past her again. He would have asked her why she stopped, but he was shining his flashlight around, investigating the four tunnels. And then Rose... for lack of a better phrase, freaked out. It was like she was searching for something, but Larry didn't know what that something was. She started forward and all he could do was follow in increasing concern. "Rose?" he tried.

* * *

It was like she was dreaming again. The tunnel was cold and dark, but Rose didn't need light to see where it led. There were two more forks down the line, both splitting the passage in two. Rose simply continued forward without stopping, instinctively taking all the right turns. On and on she went, the whispering in her ear drowning out anything else, until finally the tunnel ended, expanding into a huge, high-ceiling chamber.

Many columns filled the room, some about as wide as an old oak tree, others as big as five, creating a complicated maze. Rose walked between them, just following the whispers. She couldn't hear or see or really register anything else, for if she did, she would notice the columns were made of well-preserved human bones, stacked neatly over each other. Lines of skulls protruded from them on equal intervals, adorning them like a nightmarish garlands.

However, all of that was lost on her. The princess made a few turns, passing nonchalantly by the ghoulish things, until she finally stopped. Looking up and down one of the columns, which appeared to be no different than any of the others, she lifted her hand and placed it on one of the cold skulls. Then she pushed. The skull fell inward, leaving behind a gaping hole of darkness. The flashlight fell to the floor when Rose dropped it so she could use both hands, pushing on the bones until there was a sizeable hole in the column. The inside of it was hollow, but in the dim light at her feet, Rose could make out a hole in the floor, a metal ladder leading further down.

Then she suddenly snapped out of it and jerked back with a gasp, finally realising where she was and what she was doing.

* * *

The feeling that seized Larry as he watched Rose walk on in a trance-like state was unfamiliar and spread up his spine like a cluster of spiders. It was such a tangible sensation that he patted himself off, temporarily plunging the tunnel into flashes of light aside from Rose's steadily distancing light. He couldn't lose her. She'd just told him that she had a bad feeling about this, and now she was possessed on some level. "Rose," Larry called, despite knowing he would get no answer. As he rushed to catch up, he didn't notice the unevenness of the floor and ended up on his stomach with a throbbing in his palms and knees. Still, he didn't lose sight of the princess as she navigated in the dark. Larry muttered in French about how scraping up his hands and knees every time he went on an adventure was getting old.

When the tunnel turned into the cavern Rose was a few feet ahead, and the distance was a problem, because Larry had very little time to inspect the very, very creepy columns. What were skulls doing under a school?! His flashlight roved the cavernous expanse and all he saw were bones, bones, and more bones, until his flashlight crossed something pale. Panicked, he aimed the flashlight back at the space he had seen it, but nothing stood where he would have sworn he saw an apparition. The hair on his body stood on end almost to the point of pain, and he backed into a column with such force that some of the bones cascaded to the floor. Like some kind of animal, he leapt at the noise he had caused, scrambling into a run that took him almost past Rose.

Babbling in a mixture of languages, Larry tried to get Rose's attention, but she was still unresponsive. " _Merde_!" he said, heart pounding, and he would swear that he felt a stirring of air cross his neck. How was there wind in a place like this? He didn't know any more than what the hell he thought he saw a minute before. Whirling around to find the source of the wind, the prince gripped his flashlight like a weapon and made himself ready to smack at anything that came at him. Except, it seemed the wind disturbed a column, because he was being bowled over by bones with no warning. " _Rose!"_  he barked out, coughing past dust. Within a few seconds, he was on his feet, but the bones had left him more freaked than he cared to admit. He had lost sight of his companion.

Running in maybe a circle, Larry looked for the light that Rose had been carrying, but couldn't find it until he heard what sounded like more bones moving. By a column that she seemed to be dismantling, Larry saw Rose. Skidding to a halt at her side, the dusty, bloodied prince looked down into the hollow column and back to Rose.

"Can you hear me again?" he asked, wiping dust from his face with a smear of a hand without remembering that the blood on his palm would probably paint his face red.

* * *

"What… what happened?" the princess asked weakly, feeling dizzy and disoriented. She stumbled backwards, and her foot bumped into the flashlight. After bending down to retrieve it, Rose examined her surroundings carefully, slowly moving the bright beam of light along the columns. They were in an underground room full of bones. A massive grave.

"Where are we?" she breathed, panic rising in her throat. Turning to face Larry, she finally got a good look at him too, and her heart plummeted all the way to the pit of her stomach. He looked like he had gone a few rounds with the mole-people. "Are you okay? What happened to you?" Rose asked urgently and reached up to dust off his hair, her eyes darting back and forth, assessing his injuries. The sight of blood sobered her up, made her focus. He had gotten hurt because of her,  _again_. Larry said before that he wasn't afraid of injury with his friends around, but apparently when he was with her he'd have to be, and the thought was a bitter pill to swallow.

Upon a closer, calmer inspection, Rose found that he seemed mostly fine. No cuts or bruises, none that she could see anyway. The blood on his cheek made her stomach contract unpleasantly, so she drew the sleeve of her pink jumper over her fingers and gently wiped it off. If she had to look at him bloodied again, Rose would definitely lose whatever bits of resolve she had. Then she took his hand and turned his palm up, shining the light on it. "Looks like just a scratch," she said, cursing herself for not being more prepared and bringing bandages. Of course they would need medical supplies! It felt like only minutes ago when she had sworn to herself she would keep him from getting hurt, and here she was, already failing. "I'm sorry I'm not Curly," Rose said quietly. "He'd have this fixed in less than a minute. I don't suppose you brought disinfectant with you?" The chance was small, but they were in a dirty old cave full of dead people. Better safe than sorry.

* * *

"You were possessed, I think," Larry answered, trying to control his breathing. His heart was still pounding, but that probably wouldn't go away until they had left the catacombs. With her assessment of him, Larry wondered how ragged he must look. Letting her fuss over his hair was easy, trying to figure up an explanation of what had happened was hard. "I tripped," he said, "I tripped because I wasn't paying attention. The dust was me running into a column. I got spooked." It was a half-truth that he didn't feel like elaborating. Larry couldn't look away from Rose while she wiped his blood off his cheek, mind half on what he had seen and half on what the hell had caused Rose to walk to this exact spot.

It hit him hard that this woman in Rose's dreams might be bad news, but they'd come too far to go back now. "I have a bottle of water," he answered, swinging his bag off his shoulders and riffling through it until he found it. The scrapes on his palms and probably knees would be hard to bandage, but he could rinse his hands and worry about whether to have Curly heal them later or not. "Don't worry about these. Curly's gift comes in handy, but... sometimes, it's nice to be reminded we're only mortal." He splashed some water on his palms, having taken a step from Rose to keep from getting it on her as well.

* * *

Rose half-smiled at his remark, finding it ironic that an Acromantula bite didn't faze him, but a scratch reminded him (finally!) that he wasn't immortal. When she was sure Larry wasn't seriously hurt, the princess glanced back at the hole. "It's down there," she said, crouching near the edge and flashing the light in the opening. The fear was still present in her chest, but now she could feel something else inside her as well, fighting with it for dominance. Curiosity.

Two things were perfectly clear now. One: the dreams were definitely more than just nightmares – they were deliberate messages, and someone had to be behind them. Two: they were in the right place. Rose hadn't been so sure about this whole thing at first, but Larry was convinced that it was the most likely location. Now that they were actually  _in_ the Catacombs, it all felt too familiar to be wrong. But who was leading her down here? What was that 'thing' she was so sure she would find? And why did she want to get to it so badly?

Rose glanced at Larry. "I'll go first."

* * *

Larry looked down in the hole after returning the bottle and bag to their original places, hair-raising uncertainty creeping up his neck. "Rose," he returned, putting a hand on one of her arms, "If the thing below... I don't know. Let me go first. I don't want to get separated from you down there." He waited for only a beat before dropping his hand and climbing into the hole and onto the ladder first.

Climbing down in the dark with slick hands was an interesting exercise in faith in himself, but when he at last reached the bottom, he called back up the hole and said, "Okay. I'm okay."

* * *

She didn't want to let him go first, but he hardly left her time to process his words before sliding down into the hole. Rose could do nothing but wait.

After only a minute, she got the funny feeling that someone was watching her. A sudden breeze made locks of her hair move on their own, and she turned around sharply. The flashlight jerked back and forth, but all the princess could see were more bones. Just as she was starting to really get freaked out, Larry's voice reached her from the bottom, and she hesitantly turned forward again. Something brushed against her hand, making her jump. The flashlight shone that way, but all she found… was a single black feather.

Rose picked it up for closer inspection, but quickly remembered that Larry was waiting for her, so she stuffed it in her bag and began the descent. It was hard to climb down while also holding a flashlight, but Rose managed to do so without dropping it.

When her feet finally touched solid ground again, something crunched under her shoes and Rose jumped, realising in horror that she had just stepped on the bones that had fallen down. Suppressing a whimper, the princess turned her light to the tunnel. It didn't look like the rest of the fraying catacombs – this place was  _ancient_. The air was stale and cold, the walls rougher and less defined. In the distance, Rose could hear the faint sound of dripping water.

"Was this on your floor plan?" she asked, throwing a look at Larry to refill her quickly depleting reserves of courage. Then her eyes turned to the darkness and, with a deep breath to steady herself, she continued forward.

* * *

Larry had shone his flashlight about as he waited on Rose, and for half a minute, he was afraid that something had gotten her where he had left her above, but then her light appeared at the top of the ladder, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. When she started walking, Larry followed, answering, "No. Either this was here long, long before the maps were made or they didn't know about it. Judging by the structure, I wouldn't be surprised if this is partially natural cave. Even if they made a map, it may not have been all that accurate."

The passage was a lot shorter this time around, straight as an arrow. A solid metal grate, cutting their access to what seemed to be another chamber, hopefully one not full of death, blocked the end of the tunnel.

* * *

The dripping sounds grew louder and louder as they went along, unnerving the young princess even more, until they finally reached the source. They must be directly under the moat now, because when Rose shone the flashlight on the ceiling, she saw that small stalactites had formed there, water drops rolling down from them every half a minute or so. Good news was that thanks to that the lock on the grate seemed to have rusted, and Larry mentioned having brought a hammer. Bad news was that Rose's whole body froze, and she refused to take another step.

"I can't," she said, jerking her head side to side in panic, her body instinctively taking a step back. "I can't go past this point, Larry. I'm hydrophobic."

* * *

Coming to the grate, Larry stepped forward to inspect the rusted lock and made a face, thinking that he'd never been very good at picking locks. The sound of Rose's voice made him swing his head to look at her. His brows furrowed, not entirely understanding. "Afraid of water?" asked the Stooge, having to work it out aloud. "There's not much down here, Rose. You might only get a drop on you." The backpack came off his shoulders again, and he found the hammer easily, trying to judge how hard he had to smack the metal lock for it to break open. He wasn't trying to be insensitive, but it wasn't something he had any experience with. He thought she could tolerate a drop. It was only water. She wouldn't melt, right?

* * *

"I can't," she echoed, her head shaking involuntarily. Rose took a few more steps back. Her eyes were darting between the stalactites, her heart beating faster with every drop. "I can't, I can't touch it." Her breaths became faster, more shallow. The princess swallowed hard, trying to force her pulse to be steady, but it wasn't working.

It was night-time. As long as there was a moon in the sky, just a few drops on her naked skin would be enough to transform her. That was how her curse worked – indoors, underground, it didn't matter: if she touched water, she would become a swan. Larry didn't know about it, of course, no one did, but there was nothing worse for Rose than being a swan. Having the ability to talk, walk, use your hands taken away from you, it was like being bound and gagged. She hated it. Hated being a bird, hated the disgusting feeling of water on her skin and the extremely unpleasant process of the transformation.

"I can't get wet," she breathed, feeling like she wanted to turn around and run, but her feet felt as heavy as lead, keeping her nailed to the ground.

* * *

Hearing the panic in Rose's voice, Larry left off with his attempt on the lock and went to stand in front of her. He took one of her hands with his free hand and gave it a small squeeze, like she had done for him. In the dark, despite having shoved his flashlight into his bag, Larry could see Rose's face. She looked absolutely mortified. This wasn't an act. She wasn't joshing him. "Do you want to go back?" he asked, unsure what else he could do other than call off the whole thing. "We don't have to go forward. Just tell me, and I can get us out of here."

* * *

Rose's eyes moved from the ceiling to Larry, and for a long moment she had no idea how to answer him. They had come so far, probably miles under the school, walked through that nightmare of a room, disturbed many remains of the long deceased, and he had even gotten hurt, all for them to make it this far.

But there was  _water_.

Tears stung her eyes. He believed in her, and she was about to let him down. If she could only begin to be half of what he thought of her, she could do about anything. She could be brave and walk straight through; she could be strong and do it despite the fear. But he was wrong about her. Rose wasn't brave, and she was certainly not strong. She was about to turn tail and run, waste his time, his efforts, everything; and he would see her for what she was – just a scared little girl who didn't have the nerve to cross a corridor.

Unable to verbalize her own disappointment in herself and the burning shame she felt at the pit of her stomach, all Rose could do was cast her teary eyes down and give him a jerky nod. She just couldn't do it.

* * *

Larry accepted the nod and took a step or two with Rose, heading back. If it meant that much to her; if water was that much of a problem, Rose knew her limits. They would try again some other time, or maybe he would go it alone at some point. Either way, this wasn't done.

And then it really wasn't.

* * *

Mere seconds after they had started back the way they came, Rose felt a chilly breeze in the tunnel once again, stronger this time, more tangible. She jumped and clung to Larry's arm, shooting him a panicked look. "Please tell me you felt that," she said, and then slowly turned around, only to see a layer of white winter frost cover the wet part of the tunnel. The drops froze before they could fall, and the floor became as shiny as an ice rink. Rose's eyes slid to the grate, and she shone the flashlight over the intricate white shapes the frost made upon the metal, when it suddenly shuddered and very slowly swung itself wide open. The princess' wide eyes turned back to the prince next to her. "I think something really wants us to keep going," she said, barely above a whisper. "What should we do?"

* * *

" _Mon dieu_ ," Larry breathed as he watched the tunnel freeze. He had his hand on Rose's on his arm, turning a bit so that he would be shielding her somewhat. Her words seemed to hit repeat in his mind about someone wanting them to go, and Larry felt a little over his head. All he could do was manipulate plants, and there were none around here. So far, whoever was down here with them could manipulate Rose and freeze water. What else could they do? He was reminded of his mother and father's Enchantress, and sincerely prayed that Rose's counterpart—or whoever this was—was benign. Despite all the creepy ambiance and evidence to the contrary. "Keep going...?" Larry whispered back, going on, "But I have to say that this has only gotten worse. Whatever is down there, we need to be careful, to the tenth power."

* * *

Rose nodded. "We'll be careful."

Advancing slowly towards the grate, she kept her hold in him, eyeing the frozen drops apprehensively as they passed under them. Once they were safely past the ice, she finally let go, raising her flashlight, ready to inspect this new place.

As soon as they stepped inside, the air buzzed with some sort of ancient magic and torches along the walls came to life one by one, flooding the room with light. Rose's first thought was that it looked oddly like a temple. The walls were lined with numerous coffins, the floor covered with tiles creating strange circular shapes, but what immediately drew her attention was a statue of a woman with long, cascading hair, situated at the opposite end of the room. Rose's eyes widened in surprise.

"That's her," she said, approaching it slowly. "That's the woman from my dream."

The statue was etched from pure white marble, allowing for the bright red jewel she held in her hands to seem all the more brilliant. In the dancing torchlight, it almost seemed alive, as if there was a real, living flame inside it. Rose wondered if it would me warm to the touch. Without even knowing why, the princess slowly put her hand on it.

The room shook. The ground beneath them split and forced them apart. Rose threw a panicked look at Larry and backed into the statue, trying to find something solid to hold on to. Without warning, the marble hands behind her suddenly came to life, and the red jewel hit the ground as Rose was caught in a cold, stone hug. She yelped in surprise and tried to struggle, but the statue was solid and unmoving. Then the harsh sound of stone grinding against stone reverberated through her, and the statue began to sink down. The princess looked to Larry, her eyes wide and full of fear.

She managed to call out his name one last time right before the darkness swallowed her.

* * *

The torches lighting one by one, after the long, arduous walk and then run, and then spook and then crash that had led them down to this exact chamber were just the right amount of climatic and "OH-COME-ON!" Larry really didn't know if he wanted to start looking for a candid camera or just grab Rose and run back out of the cavernous room. In the focal point of the room was the white marble statue, and the focal point of the statue was absolutely the stone that lay in the hands. It was very pretty, but very chilling.

"Don't touch—!"

No sooner had Larry started to warn Rose than her touch to the jewel started the mini-quake that split the room. He'd seen her reach, and it went through his mind that the pretty stone was a lure. The whole room briefly reminded him of an Angler Fish, the torches seeming like teeth and the marble woman like the lure, but it fell away as the figure came to life.

"NO!" the prince cried upon seeing the statue grab Rose and begin to lower into the ground. There was no way to reach her in time to free her, so Larry watched in horror as she disappeared. With his pulse pounding in his ears, the Stooge tried to think through what he could do, and all he could do for three full seconds was curse, " _Merde! Merde!_ " And then it hit him: " _Bien sûr!_  The rope!"

He hadn't just spent the better part of a night traipsing around with a backpack full of rope not to use it. He slung his pack to the floor, grabbed the rope, hammer, and the flashlight and backed up enough to vault the crack. Once he was on the other side, Larry attached the rope, flung the length into the hole left by the statue, and then stood above the hole, realizing that he had neither the upper-body strength to keep from simply slipping off the rope, nor the dryness of hands to. So, he pulled the rope back up as fast as he could and tried like hell to remember how to free rappel without a harness. How was it so easy to be an action hero in a movie with zero experience? That wasn't realistic. All the while, Rose was likely getting further away.

Shining a light down into the hole, Larry called out "Rose?!" hoping to get a better idea of how far down the statue was taking her.

* * *

Rose continued to struggle as the statue descended, but to no avail – she just couldn't move stone with her bare hands. In a few short, disorienting minutes it was all over, and everything came to a halt. The statue's hands suddenly released her, causing the princess to fall to the ground with a grunt.

Rose stood up and brushed the dirt off her jeans. She appeared to have been lowered to another tunnel. The flashlight which had fallen from her grasp was shining from the floor, and she knelt down to retrieve it. The statue behind her was still once more, resting in a tall niche in the wall which seemed to be made specifically for it. A similar one was carved on the opposite wall of the tunnel, but it remained empty. Rose shone the light all around, hoping to get some sort of clue as to how to get back up to Larry, when a familiar ghostly whisper echoed in her ears. She froze and slowly turned around, her frightened eyes fruitlessly searching the darkness.

It was beckoning her.

As if in a trance, the princess took a few steps down the path. Blind and deaf to everything else, she continued down the stone corridor, drawn forward by a compulsion she barely soon she saw light at the end of the tunnel. It grew and grew, until she was standing in front of a large doorway.

Rose stepped into the light and found herself in a spacious room. The light was coming from an enormous metal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, whose many, thick candles had bled wax over their bases. Marble statues of angels, cracked and turned brown with age, covered in grayish-green mould here and there, lined the walls. In-between the statues, carved straight into the stone, were dozens of horizontal niches, in columns of three. Even from the entrance, Rose could see the crumbling remains of the humans which occupied them, left here to rot who knows how long ago. The centre of the room was taken by a large stone tomb, on top of which a statue of a bearded man lay as if sleeping, likely carved in the likeness of the body contained within.

Despite all of that, Rose's attention was immediately grabbed by the woman standing before her. She wore a simple linen dress, and her long, dark red hair twirled around her gently, as if picked up by a gentle breeze. The woman from her dreams.

"I found you," Rose uttered, too entranced to think of anything else.

The woman smiled. "Yes, you did."

Something slammed behind Rose, and she turned around sharply, only to find the exit blocked by a solid wooden door. The princess looked to the woman again and saw her smile grow into a malicious smirk. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. A whirlwind of black feathers swirled around her, and when it cleared, a tall dark-haired woman stood in her place. Her brown eyes were framed by thick eyelashes and black eyeshadow, and her long, black mermaid dress hugged her slim frame in a very flattering way.

"You really came," she said, her gaze locked with Rose's. "How foolish."

"Who are you?" the princess managed to say, and though the hand holding her flashlight was steady, the same could not be said about her voice.

"You look just like her." The woman came closer, completely ignoring the question. She stopped right before Rose, and her hand rose to take a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. "If you had been mine, you would have been beautiful," she whispered, her eyes going over every curve of Rose's face. "But I can see parts of him in you... in the nose... the curve of your mouth... I wonder if you get the same wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're thinking... He was always so handsome when he thought hard about something..."

A light went on inside Rose's head. "Are you... talking about my father?"

"Yes..." the woman said, still searching her face for something. "He thought silly wards could keep me forever... He was mistaken."

The pieces were starting to come together in Rose's mind, and the fog around her brain retreated. Wards. Black feathers. Intimate knowledge of her parents.

The breath hitched in her throat. "Odile?"

Rose knew the name well. It was one she'd heard many times – the name of her mother's greatest rival, the daughter of the wizard Rothbart who had kidnapped and cursed Odette in hopes of getting her to marry him, the one whose heart burned for Siegfried, love turning into rage when he chose Odette over her and plunged an arrow through Rothbart's heart.

The woman finally looked her in the eyes and smiled. "Right you are, duckling."

With a sudden flick of the sorceress' wrist, an unseen force hit Rose with the strength of a charging horse, and she was flung across the room, colliding painfully with one of the marble statues. Rose dropped the flashlight and struggled for breath on the ground, a throbbing pain in her back clouding her thoughts. She heard the sound of stone grinding against stone, then something picked her up in the air and carried her a few meters, dropping her harshly in the open, empty tomb in the middle of the room. She fell on stone again, grunting in pain as her head made contact with the rough surface, sending a shock of pain through her entire body and making her dizzy. A shadow loomed over her.

"Your parents thought a few guards would stop me. They thought my thirst for revenge would run cold with the years they kept me imprisoned. They were wrong."

A snap of fingers, and the bottom of the coffin began to sink. Rose scrambled backwards in panic. She stood up but it was too late – the edge of the hole she was now occupying was way out of reach. Odile watched her from from the top, a smirk pulling on her lips. With another wave of her hand, water began to flow in from the four corners on the floor. Rose backed up against the wall, but there was nowhere to go. Within seconds, the water, so cold it was painful to the touch, licked her ankles. Her eyes widened in horror.

Magic swirled around her like a glowing wave, and she could feel the dreaded transformation taking effect. Her neck elongated, her arms grew pure white feathers, and her entire body shrank to take the form of a swan.

The bird's bright blue eyes, the only feature of her human self Rose retained after a transformation, were wide as tea plates as she batted her wings frantically, unable to make anything more than an odd honking sound. The sorceress observing her from the edge of the hole seemed utterly undisturbed by the scene as she leaned in, her elbows propped against the stone.

With a twist of her wrist, a sharp, shiny dagger appeared in Odile's hand. "Their pathetic little guard squads might have been instructed to take  _me_  down on sight," she said, her eyes following the light reflecting off the blade. Then the same swirl of black feathers enveloped her, and the next second Rose saw that Odile had taken on a perfect mirror image of herself. The doppelganger's eyes moved to her. "But they wouldn't keep away their precious daughter."

And then Rose understood. The dreams, they were only a ploy to lure her down here, where the Fairy Godmother's protection was at its thinnest, so Odile could take her image and exact revenge on her parents. So she could kill them.

The water under her was freezing, but Rose barely felt its sting, even as it continued to rise. Again she tried to do something, to fly up, to yell, but the cursed form rendered her completely and utterly helpless.

"Don't worry, little duck," Odile said airily, still staring at the knife. "You will die of either hunger or hypothermia before the news reaches you. I'm not sure which will get you first. In any case, you won't last much longer than a few days, at best. So, really, I'm doing you a favour. You'll never know what it's like to see your parents die." Her voice grew bitter. "Not like I did."

Odile flicked her wrist and the knife disappeared. Rose watched her walk over to the door, still looking exactly like her, and open it with a single gesture.

"Oh, and don't worry about your little friend, either. I'll take good care of him. Goodbye, little duck."

The door slammed shut once again, leaving the swan utterly alone, surrounded by deafening silence.


	14. Chapter 14

Larry heard no answer from below, but there were a few sounds, distant, muffled, like something was happening. He was ready to pull his hair out, except he had an idea while staring daggers at the rope. Knots. About every three feet. Ideally, the rope would be vine, and Larry would be able to simply control it, but he had only thought of rope. Larry got to work, and putting knots in a rope as long as Larry had was really a drain on time, but he had to get down there. If anything were to happen to Rose, firstly, Larry wouldn't be able to bear the guilt, but secondly, it might cost him his friendship with Curly and Moe. Halfway through the rope, Larry heard the loudest of the bangs from below yet, and yelled down the name of his missing companion with no answer.

Once the prince had the rope tied in as many varying knots as he could manage, he shoved the length into the hole again, put his pack on, and let the hammer slide into his pocket. Then, he swung down the rope and started to descend. Immediately, his arms started to burn, but it was easy to ignore. About ten feet up, his hands slipped and he crashed down to the floor. The fall felt like a punch to the gut, with a jolting, lancing pain going through his left leg. For a moment, all Larry could do was lay where he had landed and hold his leg to his stomach. It wasn't broken, but he wouldn't discount a fracture. Pushing aside thoughts of himself, Larry shoved himself to his feet and started hobbling forward, having retrieved the torch from his pack. "Rose?! Can you hear me?!"

* * *

"Over here!" Rose called out, approaching him slowly with a hand over her eyes to shield herself from the blinding light. "Had fun on the way down?" she asked with a playful smirk, looking him over. Tall and lanky, the guy looked about as tough as a pillow. The little princess had a strange taste in men. "Let's get moving, this place gives me the creeps." She took the flashlight from his hand and continued down the tunnel, just assuming he would follow.

* * *

At the sound of Rose's voice in the dark, Larry felt a small release of the fear that had gripped him since the moment the room split them. His eyebrows furrowed when she spoke, not understanding her levity. "Wait, Rose," he said, concerned. "What happened? What were those noises? Didn't you hear—?" His voice cut off halfway through his question as she took the flashlight from him. He'd never seen her so... bold? Was that the word? Before, they went together, but she was walking off on her own. She didn't fret over him—which wasn't something he exactly expected—and considering how she had earlier, and his panicked state, he thought she might give him more than just a once over.

"I fell, Rose," he called forward, "Slow down so I can catch up."

* * *

"Nothing much," Rose replied in a bored tone, continuing forward. "It's a dead end that way. Whatever noises you heard must've been from the statue moving, or your own imagination."

She stopped when he beckoned after her and turned around. Looking him over once again, Rose noticed he was limping. "Walk it off," she said dismissively with a roll of her eyes but waited for him to come closer. "You're still breathing, can't be that bad." Seriously, the guy didn't look like  _that_ much of a wimp. What did he want, a sympathy snog? Hmm... blonds weren't usually her cup of tea, but he'd do. After so many years in isolation, she wasn't very picky.

The annoyance slipped from her face, replaced by a more 'concerned' look. "There's a passageway to the surface just a bit further," she said, gesturing with the flashlight. Then she turned back to him and smiled sweetly. "You can make it, can't you, handsome? We'll take a breather once we get out of here."

* * *

Just in his imagination? He didn't believe that the statue had made all the noise, and he knew it had been real, so that just left Rose either not wanting to tell him, or having had something happen to her. She didn't sound like herself, particularly in telling him to just "walk it off". Generally, Rose was caring. She'd played him songs and sang to him. She'd felt very bad about having gone into the woods on Halloween and that he had gotten hurt following her and Curly. She felt bad about the blood on his hands.

She looked like Rose, but she didn't act like her.

"I'll make it," Larry answered, trying to puzzle it all out. Following Rose, he cast one last look at the darkness behind him, unsettled and unsure why.

* * *

Rose kept the pace aggravatingly slow, walking only half a step before him. Her steps were sure and confident, knowing exactly where to go. After a short distance, both sides of the tunnel became lined with tall niches. She counted the third one on the left and slipped inside, flashing the light on the smooth stone. "Here it is," she said triumphantly once her fingers found the small indent. Rose reached with her free hand and drew the guy (what was his name again?) in, sandwiching him between herself and the wall. "You might want to hold on to something," she said with a flirty smirk and her hand moved his to her waist, while the other finally pressed the indentation. The floor of the niche shook and slowly began to rise as Rose's hands wrapped around his neck, her body pressing against his. "Mmm, I can get used to this," she purred in his ear.

* * *

A short distance on what could have been a fracture or at least a really bad sprain was like sprinting a kilometer. Larry felt like sweat had pooled where his shirt met his neck and thought briefly that after Curly healed him he would probably have to use a firehose to break all the grime he had collected off. A hot, hot shower would be nicer than that. The prince looked up as Rose called out, and was caught quite off-guard as he was pulled into the very narrow space between the walls and Rose.

For starters, Larry was intensely uncomfortable as soon as the princess had him in the niche with her. Additionally, he knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong with Rose. And lastly, he had a feeling that it was in his best interests to act like this was not as alarming as it really was; Rose had been possessed that evening already. So, Larry didn't fight Rose's movement of his hand and let her wrap her arms around him. The voice in his ear coaxed a slight shiver out of him, but he could use it, or so he thought. He let his hand travel lower, nearly to the round of her rear, acutely aware of just how  _soft_ her body was pressed against him. To check if Rose was really still Rose or if she was just acting strange, Larry dropped his lips to her ear and answered, "Me too,  _mon ange,_ " as if it were her common nickname, and not something she had expressly asked him not to call her.

* * *

Ah, so the little duck really did have something more going on with him. Rose smirked. Excellent.

"Well then," she said in a low, seductive voice, her breath caressing the skin of his neck, "if it's what we both want… Why put it off? No one can see us here."

The flashlight hit the ground as she let go of it, placing her palms on his chest instead and pressing harder into him. Her head pulled back a little and, with only a very brief glance at his eyes, Rose leaned in and kissed him, hard. She had forgotten how good a kiss could taste. A strong, musky scent hit her nostrils and she moaned quietly, enjoying it immensely. The kiss deepened, adrenaline pumped through her veins and her left hand formed a fist in his clothes, pulling him closer, while the other slid down and hooked into his belt.

* * *

Larry knew what was coming before Rose actually acted on it, as if time was slowed down. There was an eternity from the time she stopped breathing in his ear to the time the flashlight fell from her fingers to the time when she crushed her mouth to his. The slow down seemed to allow Larry a second to think.

Rose, if she was possessed, could not give consent to any of this. If this was some evil spirit in Rose's body, doing anything untoward would be on the next level of sick. Could it be anything else? How could this be Rose, but not Rose? This person, if it were a fake Rose, would be the same person who froze the room, possessed Rose, caused the miniquake that separated them, and manipulated the statue to life. Was being able to look like and sound like Rose that much of a jump?

His brain stuttered as sensation took over. Larry hadn't held hands with anyone besides the girl who's doppleganger was kissing him. He was a freshly minted sixteen-year-old-prince, and he was being thoroughly kissed by what looked and felt like a very willing other sixteen-year-old. His hands seemed to know more to do than he did, himself, because one had slid up Rose's back and was tangling his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck, and the other was copping a feel of a very shapely ass cheek.

Oh, how he hoped that this was not Rose-possessed. With that thought, he broke the kiss looking into the face, looking for any evidence that this girl wasn't really the princess he had come down with. "Are you sure?" he stalled. She wouldn't have to ask him; with her belly pressed against his front, she could probably feel how "sure" he was.

* * *

Pleasant tingles spread through Rose's body as he moved to reciprocate. And oh, he tangled his fingers in her hair just the way she liked it, and he tasted so  _good_. The quickly forming bulge in his pants only served to excite her as both of her hands slipped down and under his shirt, roaming the warm skin underneath.

Annoyed at the sudden disappearance of his lips, Rose looked up to him, frowning at his pulling away. However, the way he asked if she as sure made it turn into a smirk again. How adorable.

Rose let go of him and reached down, then with one swift motion discarded the pink jumper, which joined the flashlight on the rough stone floor. "Shut up and kiss me," she said breathlessly, then crashed. her mouth into his, arms wrapping around his neck once again. Her body closed any distance there might have been between them, and she bit his lower lip lightly, letting out another quiet moan.

* * *

Rose's hands were cool, and might have made him flinch were they not feeding the flame somewhere below his skin. He saw her drop her jumper to the floor beneath them and couldn't slow the wild pounding of his heart. Larry hadn't given much thought to what Rose looked like under her clothes, but in the diminished light shining up from the floor, he had to think that she was curvy and gorgeous. Then, she was on him again, pressing all of that body against him, kissing him like she'd been starved for human touch for years—which would fit if she was Rose's doppleganger and had been stuck below ground. And the noise she was making; he couldn't help his roaming hands, despite their scrapes. Larry couldn't help his fingers, which reached between them for the button on her pants. He couldn't help that the friction between them was making the light dance behind his eyes. He couldn't help that some part of his brain didn't care that this wasn't Rose; that part was too hungry, too young, too flattered to care.

Larry shifted, careful of his injury, and worked on opening his pants. He took a step back until his shoulder touched the wall of the niche, and lifted one of Rose's legs onto his hip, trailing his hand up to the junction between her leg and butt.

* * *

His fingers left hot, blazing trails on her skin, and their ragged breaths echoed in her ears. It was almost intoxicating to feel like this again, to be wanted, desired, touched. Rose hadn't expected him to be this bold, but she loved it. When he popped open the button of her jeans she couldn't help a shiver of excitement, sighing into his mouth and arching her back.

The floor stopped moving and the niche came to a halt somewhere on the top basement level, but neither of them seemed to notice or even care about that fact.

A desperate need was quickly building somewhere low between her legs and she longed to be closer to him, even if there was no space left between them. Her hands grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. "I want to touch you," she whispered, taking a second to look him in the eyes. And then her lips assaulted his again, hands travelling up his arms, feeling every single curve. While he took a step back to open his own pants, Rose slipped off her jeans, but, too impatient to wait, pounced on him before the job was done, now only in her black bra and panties, and pulled him back, hungry to taste his lips and feel his skin on hers again. Her back hit the nearest wall, causing her to grunt into the kiss, and when his hand lifted her leg, she wrapped it around his hip, pulling him even closer. Her hands slid up, one to twist into his locks and another to grip his shoulder, and when his hand trailed up her thigh she shivered in anticipation, letting out an impatient, encouraging moan.

* * *

Larry had one last moment to mentally weigh the options, where all they were doing was dry humping and playing tonsil hockey, before things got completely out of hand.

_Am I really doing this? Well, I'm giving it my best shot, apparently. What if this IS Rose? But it's not. It couldn't be. What is it, then? Who? And where is the real Rose? It's probably the woman in Rose's dreams, the one who got this mess started in the first place. And Rose is somewhere down below, possibly not in any danger, but possibly in danger. Well, what do I do? Is this something I want to follow through with? How do I stop? Just say no? With what explanation? Is she going to know that I've figured out that something isn't right? What would she do if I know? Kill me? Make me disappear? Will I get a chance to come back here and try and find the real Rose? Is there any way to get out of this without raising suspicions? My leg could work? What if... she just keeps going?_

The questions stacked up with fewer answers on the opposite side for them. The doppleganger looked him right in his eyes, whispered what she did to him, and all Larry could do was calculate the likelihood of this ending well. This was incredibly wrong. He was stupid to have let it get this far in the first place, and his body was mutinous to have responded like it had. Breaking the kiss, Larry was quick to back away from the untrue vision of Rose. It was more of a hobble, Larry's scuttling backward, but he didn't keep looking at the girl in the niche, instead casting his eyes to the floor. What a horrible mistake he could have just made. "I'm not doing this here, Rose," he said as if to explain, "You deserve more than a quick fuck in the basement. Put on your clothes. Go to your room. We're both exhausted. I need to get my leg fixed. Things won't seem so desperate in the morning."

* * *

His sudden retreat left her surprised, then annoyed. But, as they say, you catch more bees with honey than with vinegar.

"I'm not desperate, sugar," Rose said playfully, slowly advancing on him. "I just know what I want… and how to get it." Her hand reached for his chin and made him look at her. "And you can't tell me you don't want it too." She took another step forward. "Or that you don't like what you see." Her lips stretched into a smirk and she cast a glance down at the hard mound under his boxers. Another step, and she had him backed into a corner again. "Come on," she said in a low voice, her lips hovering over his skin but not actually making contact. "You were the one who reached for the button of my pants. I think it's pretty clear where you want this to go." She pressed against him lightly, her breasts flattening against his bare chest, while one hand slowly left a light trace down to his underwear, grazing the irrefutable proof. "Don't you want me?"

* * *

-oOo-

At 9:30PM, Curly was wrapping up the homework he had planned to do for the night. He had a nice introductory paragraph on an essay for healing, all his worksheets completed for Elvish, and most of the reading for political science done. A couple of hours (or less) spent on the stuff on Saturday or Sunday, and he would be all set for class on Monday. Feeling content with his progress, he planned on seeing if Moe or Larry wanted to play or watch something together for a couple of hours and then head to bed.

Then his phone buzzed with a message from Rose. " _Down in the Catacombs with Larry. Probably won't have signal until morning."_

_Huh_ , he thought to himself.  _So that's where Larry is._ "Thought he was at the library." There was something uncomfortable and unfamiliar in his reaction to the knowledge that two of his friends were going on an adventure without him, a little bit of worry and something else, but in the end, he figured if Larry and Rose were together, they would be okay. They were both more capable than one might assume from their manner.

So he sent a text to his two friends, replying  _Be careful._  And then almost immediately after, adding another:  _Let me know when you're out._  He didn't like the idea of waiting until morning to hear from them, but after a few minutes, the prince convinced himself that they would be fine.

Over the course of the next few hours, tossing and turning in his bed, he convinced (and unconvinced) himself several times that Larry and Rose would be okay. That he did  _not_ , in fact, need to go find them and make  _sure_ they were okay. If Moe hadn't knocked out and snoring like a bear as soon as his head hit the pillow (leading Curly to believe that Larry didn't have the decency to let  _either_  of his best friends know he was going down to the catacombs), he probably would have kept him up all night, nattering on about whether or not to go after the two.

Finally, Curly had given up on sleeping. He had nabbed the compass Rose had given him for Christmas and gone out to sit at Moe's monitors, tossing it up and down and debating with himself whether or not to go after them. He couldn't just go down there and find them—the catacombs were practically a labyrinth! Whether or not Larry and Rose were okay, all he would do most likely would be get himself lost.

Then he got to really looking at the compass, turning it over and over in his hands. Rose had told him how she got it — the mysterious old man, the cryptic messages — and Curly had wondered then if it was magic. Despite his natural curiosity, he hadn't checked it out thoroughly. There just hadn't been time. It didn't point north, and as he stared down at the arrow, it spun lazily. The inscription on the side —  _I will lead you to where you need to be_  — wasn't exactly instructions, but the more time passed, the more Curly thought maybe he knew what it meant.

That was when he went and woke up Moe, told him to get dressed, and hauled his best friend out with him to look for his other best friend and the princess who may or may not have actually needed rescuing using a compass that he was only half-sure worked the way he thought it did.

Twenty minutes later, staring at the two not-shadowy-enough-for-his-taste forms of Larry and Rose, Curly was almost one hundred percent sure that he wished the compass didn't work as well as he had hoped. Only the fact that he had dragged Moe out of bed for this kept the prince from just turning around and leaving the two where they were. Well, that, and the shock that was making it pretty impossible to think of doing anything at all, rooting his feet in place.

His mouth, as usual, didn't suffer from the same paralysis as the rest of him. "Did you two get gassed with some sort of aphrodisiac or something?" Was Rose's hand really  _there_ , on Larry's fucking  _crotch_ , or was that just a trick of the light? He really, really hoped it was a trick of the light. Or that they were drugged. Because he really, really did not want to have caught  _Rose_ and  _Larry_  about to... well, Rose was in her underwear, pressed up against a shirtless and damn-near-pantless Larry with her hand probably — yeah, he was pretty sure that wasn't a trick of the light — practically on his  _dick_ , so he was going to call it what it was. They were about to fuck. Or make love, or whatever the fuck they wanted to call it. Curly didn't want to think about it anymore.

Idly, from somewhere in the back of his mind, came the quickly squelched musing that it seemed odd that Rose was wearing black underwear — she seemed like she'd wear pink.

* * *

Moe was easy. Even half asleep, right out of a perfectly decent dream, the moment Curly mentioned a magic compass, he was sold. There was the part about possibly saving Larry—Rose too—that was important. But considering that Curran didn't have any proof other than his over-active brain waves that got him worrying about his friends, and that they could very well have not needed rescuing, mentioning the compass was an excellent decision on the prince of Corona's part to get Moses going.

After a yank of some old, worn, favored sweat pants, and an equally used pullover, Moe was ready to go. Oh, and he brought along his gift from Rose too. Only sort of magical, since he'd tinkered with the antique and tried out some simpler applications of magic tech. Hadn't actually had a successful test fire yet, but the guy was half asleep. Logic wasn't an option at the moment.

Hell, he was the big oaf, following his best friend down into the freaky, haunted catacombs of the school, restricted territory by-the-way, barefoot—idiot forgot that shoes were necessary—looking for two people for a questionable mission cooked up by his equally weird best-bud. With a magical compass. Maybe. What was a semi-magical, non-functioning pistol but just another random bit of a weird night.

"What are you—" Moe's words fell away as his jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out.

He hadn't been paying attention. He didn't even remember the trip down. In fact, up until a second ago, his brain was still back in his room. With his pillow and his shoes. Maybe with the sub sandwich in the fridge. But that was a second ago. Now, he was completely and regrettably there, in the catacombs, staring at...

"Uuuuuuuuhhhhh..." Gulp. Moe's throat tried to work, tried to form the words. "Ummm..."

He blinked. Several times, doing his best impression of trying to look through a sand storm. But the image stayed the same. And the words in his head were either being screamed too loud and long indicative of a dying animal—probably his brain, each cell committing suicide with each flash of Larry's naked, hairy leg—or were just gone, stunned into silence by the horrifying image before him.

But where his mind really stalled was when the flesh in his vision changed from ugly, lanky dude legs to smooth, supple...  **Brain aneurysm! BRAIN ANEURYSM!** With a loud and embarrassing 'Yipes', Moe's survival instincts kicked in and his hand was suddenly and very securely over his eyes. And just for safe measure, the big, bumbling oaf turned his back on... on  **that.**  "What the he—," voice baby boy cracked, "heck, Larry!"

* * *

"I—" Larry started, having sucked in a breath at her touch to his very sensitive netheregions, not sure how he would have finished had he not heard his friend's voices. He'd been working on replacing Rose's stolen face with that of a nightmarish ghoul when she'd backed him into another wall. Instead, he was being graced with the absolute worst looks a guy could get from his friends at being caught in a similar situation: mortification. And the feeling would have been mutual if this were what it looked like. But Larry was trapped, as surely as the real Rose was, and only Curly and Moe's presence could save him. They looked like they had just come down from their shared dorm, Moe not even wearing shoes, which made Larry wonder just how long he had spent underground.

He needed some way, if his friends couldn't get the weird Rose to leave him alone, to get out of her grasp. Pushing her hand away, and turning towards the other Stooges, Larry had an idea. Not a good one, but an idea, all the same.

This was going to hurt like a mother—

" _Fuck_ ," Larry said, just before stomping down with his injured leg, hard enough to break the fracture further until he collapsed to the cold floor with no dignity and no lack of profanities, both muttered and shouted.

Like an animal caught in a trap, he would rather injure himself to get free than still be in the trap when the predator came back. "Curly," he grunted, "Help." All Larry could do was hope that Curly and Moe would understand when he explained to them what was going on.

* * *

She had him. He was about to give in, she could feel it. But then, just when she was about to get her way… they were interrupted.

Rose turned her head to the intruders as soon as she heard the yelp and looked the two guys over as if they were a pair of cockroaches smeared under her shoe. "Is there something you want? We're sort of busy," she said bitingly, hoping that they would leave and she could continue her fun.

While her attention was preoccupied with the other two, the blond (what the hell was his name?) just pushed her away, likely panicking at being found by his friends in such a compromising pose, and that injured leg caved under him.

"Seriously?" she exclaimed in annoyance when he fell down. "You tripped over a  _flat surface_?" Well, didn't that just flush her plans down the drain. First he tries to reject her, now this? Leaning with one hand against the wall, the other on her hip, Rose tried to survey the situation. As she looked over the two newcomers and the guy at her feet more carefully, her lip quirked up for only a second, realising that their trio was almost like a buffet — she could pick a type. Amusement quickly turned into irritation as she came to the inevitable conclusion that she was not going to get laid tonight.

Letting out a huff of frustration, Rose turned her back to them and bent down to retrieve her clothes. She hated being denied after having come this close. "Forget it," she said, pulling on her jeans. "Spend the night with your precious friends since you're so concerned with what they think; just don't expect me to keep my bed warm for you. You had your chance." Rose didn't take rejection very well. Or losing.

The idea to actually turn all three of them into bugs popped in her head, but she knew their disappearance would draw too much attention. Stepping over the guy on the floor unceremoniously, she pulled the pink jumper on and walked right past the other two, eyes lingering on each of them for a brief moment before continuing to the exit. She had bigger plans to implement.

* * *

If Curly had been less shocked, if there had been even an ounce of amusement in him at the situation he found himself in, he might have reacted at Moe's response to finding their friends in such a compromising position. As it was, the other teen's miniature freak out barely registered.

Much as he wished he could look away, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the two. Maybe it was a good thing, because with his gaze glued to the couple, he didn't miss a moment of Larry or Rose's reactions. The way Larry snapped his head around at the sound of his voice, the expression on his face, were well within the realm of expectations Curly's knowledge of his friend formed, but the way  _Rose_ looked at and spoke to them — that was another story entirely. It wasn't at all like the princess as he had come to know her, and for a few short heartbeats, it left him dumbfound.

Then Larry pulled away from the Rose-that-didn't-seem-like-Rose and took a step — no, that motion had way too much force to it to really be called a 'step' — toward Curly and Moe. The moment his friend cursed and started to go down, the pain in the stream of curses leaving Larry's lips, everything else was shoved aside in the prince's mind, leaving only the need to help his friend behind.

Curly crossed the remaining distance between them, his magic responding immediately as that special part of his brain lit up and dove into the leg that Larry had fucking  _stomped_ on — what the fuck was he thinking, doing something like that, it was like the dumbass  _wanted_  to hurt himself. The break was obvious, all fucked up tissue and bone and bright hot pain. "You fucking asshat," he muttered. "This is gonna take a fucking hour to heal."

With the rest of his mind, the parts that weren't fully consumed by healing the leg Larry  _broke_  like a fucking asshole, he looked up at Rose, brow furrowed as her words to Larry registered. "What the  _fuck_ is  _wrong_  with you?" he blurted, fury at the way she just stepped  _over_  his friend warring with confusion, because  _this_  was not how Rose acted. This was not the girl who sang to Larry in the infirmary, or who had woken out of a nightmare and clung to him, telling him he wasn't allowed to die, or the girl who brought them presents and made friends with Moe, who was terrified of girls.

Something was very wrong here. But he didn't know what, and right now it wasn't as important as fixing Larry's leg. If this crazy-not-acting-like-Rose-person wanted to leave, at least that would spare him one distraction.

* * *

For all that Moe was pretending he wasn't there, and hadn't seen, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to unsee his friend on his friend, both of them with a whole lot more skin than Moe wanted to see. And even though he hadn't let his eyes wander, even though he had turned the hell around before he could follow the whole length of girl-leg, Moses's mind was like a camera flash had gone off and caught the whole image without his permission. He didn't look but...

But he couldn't stop seeing girl panties. Black girl panties, and a hand way down there on another dude's business. It was so gross that it had to be Larry's. And Rose. Of course. Because he wouldn't think of her like that. No way. Because it was totally possible for a straight guy to not want to see a very pretty girl, too pretty girl in her ...

Moe gulped, feeling really guilty for his thoughts. He was a very bad friend so he focused on the gross. Larry-balls; gross. Hairy Larry legs; gross. Larry sex; way too gross, man. He didn't want to be thinking about that stuff either, so he tried to think about something else. Like his shoes. Because he was barefoot. In the catacombs. Where hairy-legged Larry was going to have sex with...

_No. No. Not that._ He had to think of something else. Like his pillow. Upstairs. On his bed, where it should be. Because it was all nice and soft, and perfect for laying down. Flash image of Rose panty-naked and Moses physically jerked away from that thought.  _Not pillows. No. Not that._ Something else...

Before Moses could try and fail at thinking of something other than what he was trying not to think about, Larry's voice, crying out, cut into his brain. Reflexively he wanted to turn around and see what happened, but he hesitated. Really, he didn't need another picture. He had a perverted enough imagination already, and more Larry images was just going to make him puke. Really, Larry was a good-looking guy, and maybe if Moe was a girl, he'd. But no.

His hesitation was unwarranted and useless because the next one to speak had him snapping his attention around. Oh yes, Rose was still in her girl-panties, and he was studiously pretending like he couldn't see anything except her head, but Moses was shocked out of most of his embarrassment by the things she was saying. It was almost comical, his shock. Had he not been offended for his friend, Moe might have really rubbed his eyes and stared at her like she was some freaking alien. More than the usual girl-alienness.

Moe flinched away from her as she passed by him, accidentally raising the pistol she had given him up, and then not so accidentally trying to hide behind it. Shimmying his big bulk farther from her retreating form and closer to his friends, Moe watched until the girl was completely gone before turning back and taking in the situation with Larry. "Geeze. What the he-heck was that all about, Larry? What... happened?" His hand waved at Larry's current state of undress and then back toward the exit Rose had taken. Just in case his best bud didn't know what he was talking about. "Did she hurt you?" In his mind, it was completely possible for a girl to beat a guy up. It happened to him a lot in grade school; girls were mean.

* * *

Larry, despite seeing stars, heard all that the fake Rose said, and tracked her leaving even though he kept blinking away kaleidoscopes of starbursts. With Curly right at his leg, his friend some level of angry with him, Larry could almost feel his head clearing. Then, Moe was visible again, and all Larry could feel was glad that those two guys were his friends. Some of his pain-addled brain was able to detach from the fond feelings and work on the important things. First, there was the fake Rose.

"Curly," Larry said, gripping his friend by the arm, "Don't. I'll explain, but she's not..."

He needed Moe's help: "Is she gone, Moe? Check to make sure that she's not hanging around, please?" He needed to know that the doppleganger wasn't still around, despite the finality of her leaving.

"Rose and I talked in the Infirmary while I was still recuperating," he was having to pause to wince and draw in breaths as his leg sent painful jolts up into his system, "She told me about having nightmares, being drawn down somewhere cold and old and stone. I did a little research, and around here, the only place is the basement and catacombs. So I learned the floorplans, and we made a plan. We met here at 9:30... last night?  _Merde_!" Stars were dancing again, blotting out the other two guys. He had pulled his shirt on again at some point, the cold down here finally getting to his cooling limbs. Once he had control of his mouth again, Larry continued.

"We took string and supplies and we worked our way through towards the part of the basement under the moat. That wasn't the hard part. The hard part was when Rose... well, the closest description I have is possessed. She didn't respond to her name and just started walking in the dark. I followed her, and we got to this room with these columns as tall as the ceiling that were made from people's skulls and bones. I kept trying to get her to answer, because I tripped," he showed off his scraped-up palms, "and she kept walking. There was something in that room, too."

He remembered the pale vision and seriously hoped that it was only part of the magic the doppleganger could do. Larry had to suppress a shiver.

"Anyway, Rose knocked this column open and there was a ladder going down from there. We climbed down, and we had a little hiccup because apparently, Rose is afraid of water, but then it froze, and we walked across the ice — it had to be a spell. There was a room with a statue of a woman, who has been in the dreams Rose has been having. She went up to the statue, and there was a stone in the hands of the lady, and Rose—I told her not to—touched the stone, and the statue came to life. It grabbed her and then went down through the floor. Did I mention there was some sort of earthquake? Because it split the floor and I couldn't go after Rose right away. She was gone for maybe ten minutes, and I had rope with me, so I knotted it up and climbed down—fell, really, and fucked up my leg—and then when I got up... that girl was there.

"She looks like Rose, but she isn't. She's not Rose, because Rose doesn't act like that, and I don't think she's really Rose just possessed. The real Rose wouldn't have... well, what you saw was... it's not Rose. We need to go and look where I lost the real Rose. She's gotta still be down there."

* * *

Moe was asking questions. That was good — because Curly wasn't sure he had the brain power to spare for coming up with appropriate ones. The parts of his mind not taken up by healing were fucking  _pissed_. Not just at the weird, bitchy version of Rose that had just strode off down the corridor and out of sight, but at Larry. For taking what had probably been a simple hairline fracture and turning it into such a fucking  _mess_  that it was going to take  _hours_  to heal. If the prince of Corona wasn't sure his friend was already in a hell of a lot of pain, he would have punched him. Or taken the compass and whacked him upside the head.

It would have been nice to be able to vent his anger physically or even verbally, but Larry's warnings made Curly keep his mouth shut, focusing his attention on what his magic was doing while Moe apparently checked to make sure strange Rose was actually gone. Confusion churned with anger and worry, and he didn't know what to think about anything that had just happened. But healing was simple, straightforward, and Curly knew exactly what to do there. It helped him cool off and eased the tangle of emotions and thoughts in his head.

By the time Larry was done talking, Curran's foul mood had mostly cleared, so it was without rancor that he said, "We're not going anywhere for a few hours. You really fucked up your leg."

Underlying the words was the worry his friend's story had stirred. What had happened to Rose? And would the time it took to heal Larry's leg mean they would be too late to help her?

"Moe. Is there anything you can do?" Wish-granting was complicated business — the kind of complicated that Curly still had trouble grasping, despite how long he'd been around Moe. When it came to the other teen's power, the prince deferred to him.

* * *

Moe wasn't keen on chasing after or finding Scary-Rose but he checked anyway, with his nifty maybe-magic pistol. He went all the way to the exit and a couple feet into the tunnel-corridor thing he didn't remember walking through before he determined the girl had gone and they were alone. When he got back to his friends, he listened and watched, confused. Confused because they took string and supplies.  **String** and supplies.

Because it made total sense to not only be down in the spooky,  **haunted**  catacombs—a restricted zone, by the way—because of some freaky girl-dream that had some scary boogy monster man magic thing telling her to come, but to bring supplies. And  **string.** _What?!_  He was trying to give his best buddy the benefit of the doubt, but let's face it — the guy was in his skivies in the middle of the freaking night, in the dark, damp, earthen understructure of the school because of a nightmare of a  **girl**  and which could possibly be home to some doom and gloom, center of all evil, bring forth the armageddon shit,  **almost** having sex with said girl. If it all just wasn't too weird, Moe might have thought Rose lured Larry down there for some of that  **freaky sex stuff.** But  **string? Really?**

Okay, maybe he was getting a little too hung up on the string. Well it was better than thinking about Rose and her tiny, black...  _Shit._ "So...Where, in all of that, did you lose your clothes?" Yes. He had been listening; girl stuff, dumb Larry, spooky weirdness, evil weirdness, fall, bad leg, and then weird Rose. But, like the string thing, it was a snag on his half-functioning brain. Not that Moses had any reason to think Larry was lying or anything but for some reason, in his sleep deprived, malfunctioning brain, Moses couldn't quite qualify either crazy dream scenario or sexual lure intentions as non-dubious and wholly reasonable justifications for being down in the fucking catacombs. He needed sleep. Or coffee.

Moe groaned at the proposed idea of staying down in the heeby geeby tunnels for  **a few hours.** He wanted to go to bed. But he got a little more serious when his magic was brought up. Wish-granting was not as simple as it sounded. Nor was it as straight forward as other named magics, like Healing or Fire-breathing. It was the kind of magic that rarely ever manifested without very serious consequences. It was loosely based on balance; what you took from it needed replacing. What you asked for needed to be paid in some way and the payment wasn't optional and did not require your full understanding and complete consent. If you asked for something and Moses chose to grant it, there was no question the cost would be filled, and more often than not, it was from your own hide that it was taken. Your very literal pound of flesh.

The damp chill of the cavern skittered over Moe's skin. It was most likely a figment of his imagination but for a moment, it felt like something was touching him, reaching out and running their cold, clammy wickedness over him.  _Fucking ghosts and ghost stories!_  Refocusing, Moe shrugged away the creepy and looked seriously at Curly, then more contemplatively at Larry. "He shouldn't wish anything." He said to Curly of Larry. The latter was injured, in a lot of pain, and Moe was still questioning the prince's mental functions. Basically that added up to Larry being unable to survive the cost of a wish. "And I wouldn't wish his leg better because that would most likely end with another injury." Either another broken appendage or, quite possibly, the complete loss of an appendage all together. "Wheelchair?" he offered, but it was clear he wasn't sure a wheelchair would even help. They were in the fucking  **underground!** All because of a fucking dream.

* * *

"Broke the leg to get away from the doppleganger," Larry said, unsure if they understood what he meant. "Had to be dramatic. Wheelchair unwieldy. Too many stairs." The prince seemed to have devolved into the most basic speech. He had the urge to throw up, pass out, and cry all at once, but managed to choke it all back. An hour of this wouldn't be fun. Actually, it would be unbearable, and passing out seemed like a better idea. But the moment had passed and he was back to front-and-center painmaggeaddon. "I'd rather my arm than my fucking leg if I could switch off. At least I'd be mobile. Would that work?" Pain-fevered, that actually sounded like a better idea than just trying to sit and heal on his ass in the cold for an hour. "Besides, Rose might still be in danger. I want to get to her as fast as possible. Maybe the lift goes back down."

* * *

"Ask that question again when he's not half delirious from pain," Curly said to Moe, his voice a little distracted as he focused on a particularly fucked up portion of Larry's leg. "Because I'd like an explanation on that as well."

Everything else the light-haired prince had said mostly made sense, give or take a little fuzziness on the details, but how the hell he had wound up nearly naked with the fake Rose was a complete blank space. How the fuck had he gone from being suspicious of the girl to getting ready to fuck her?

"Fuck, why didn't you just fake it? Take a prat fall, let me fix a simple break instead of a complex fracture."  _Fucking ass clown_ , thought the part of Curly that had learned to be completely irritated with his patients for being complete idiots. The voice of that part sounded remarkably like Ursula Hook.

"Crutches might be a good option — get Larry mobile without having to wait forever. Just have to take care of the pain." Which wasn't exactly easy, but if he could just heal the worst of the injury, Larry could muscle through  _some_  discomfort on crutches.

More pressing was the concern for Rose. Larry, he could fix. Rose... they didn't know what sort of condition she was in. "Is there anything you could do for Rose, Moe? Something to keep her..."  _alive_ , was what he was thinking, but he didn't want to sound so pessimistic, so aloud he finished, "safe? Ish? Until we can get to her?"

* * *

_Stairs? There were stairs?_ Moe really had not been awake enough on the trip down. When he thought about it, he couldn't even remember how far down they were or how long it had taken. Glancing at his watch was useless because he wasn't wearing one.  _Shit._

Refocusing on the present situation, he gave one solid nod to Curran. There would be plenty of questions that needed answering. "I think he was suffering from dick-brain when he did it," Moe grumbled, half defending Larry's action but still agreeing with Curly's irritation. Neither of them liked seeing their best buds hurt and Moses could still remember the pain that nearly knocked him out when he'd punched that tree and broken his hand. He knew the pain Larry was feeling was worse. Had to be. He broke a whole damn leg!

Moses was immediately shaking his head in a firm no. "It wouldn't work like that," he told Curly, though he was replying to Larry's idea. "The magic won't let you get around the cost. You ask for your injury to move from your leg to your arm and it will heal your leg, break your one arm for the leg and then cost you the other arm, or it will break your one arm but the cost of the damage would be so severe you'd lose your arm."

Magic worked on balance and the cost was based on that balance; you took something and left an empty place where that something belonged (within the  **fluidity**  of the world) and in order to maintain the balance, the cost was whatever it took to fill the empty space and calm the ripples the removal created. For more physical, tangible things, the cost seemed predictable: Ask for a wheelchair and you got it, but somewhere in the world someone else was missing a wheelchair. What you didn't see was the ripple effect of that one person missing the wheelchair and how it  **would**  effect you. Even with Larry's leg injury. One of the reasons why Moe warned them about the cost being more than just a simple switch of injuries and appendages was because the leg was not the same as the arm. Size, shape, construction. Same could be said for the injury. The magic wasn't going to shrink the injury to fit. It wouldn't avoid certain muscles and vessels in the arm that hadn't been effected in the leg. It would simply move the injury. Fuck whether it fit or not. Like taking a dress that was too many sizes too big and putting it on. Magic didn't care that it was too big and that you would end up tripping on it, tumbling down a flight of stairs, and breaking your neck. You wanted the dress so you go it. And the cost was your death.

And that was just the more physical stuff. The cost of the less tangible wishes were even harder to predict and understand how it went towards returning the balance.

Moe's attention snapped hard on Larry when he mentioned Rose. "What do you mean?" Fear and anger flared. "Rose is still in there?!"  _Then who was..._ What _was the other girl?_ Somehow, Moses hadn't gathered that the Rose he saw wasn't the Rose he knew. Larry had said Rose came out, or that was how he'd understood it. He'd thought that whatever was going on with Rose and Larry that it had to do with Rose being a  _ **girl**_  not that she wasn't actually Rose!

He didn't think. "Wish me to know," he told Curly. " **Wish**  that I knew where Rose is, now," he demanded. Fuck the cost he'd just been warning his friends about. Larry was fucking around with some Not-Rose  _thing_  while the real Rose was down in some fucking trench, possibly hurt? He flinched at the anger he felt toward his friend. It wasn't fair for him to blame Larry right then, he didn't know what really happened or what his friend had gone through with the fake Rose, but he couldn't help it. He was afraid at the thought of Rose being alone and hurt and scared, and he was angry that they'd been standing around the whole time, that  _he_ was just standing around. "Wish that I knew where she is and I will find her." Moe didn't bother to promise getting her out.

* * *

Like his thoughts were smoke and Larry was trying to catch them with a butterfly net, the prince struggled through listening and being a part of the conversation. "No, Moe," Larry tried, piecing together thoughts and words, boiling them down to something that sounded selfish without the context rattling around his brain: "You can't leave me behind." It sounded selfish to his ears, but then, they were ringing. "Got her into this. Have to be there to get her out." It was vital to Larry, and guilt might have been a factor in that, but Rose needed their help. The real Rose. If he hobbled or crawled, he didn't want to put his friends in harm's way without knowing all of what was going on downstairs.

* * *

"Dick-brain does make it pretty hard to think of much else." It wasn't condoning what Larry had done, or excusing it. Just an acknowledgement that thinking with your dick resulted in some pretty poor decisions.

Meanwhile, Curly's magic focused on doing something he had been practising — temporarily blocking the pain signals going from Larry's leg to his brain. It wasn't an easy task, but the prince had been getting better at it. Locate the nerves transmitting the signal and apply a smidge of his power to them, finding where they worked and then just... putting a little road-block up where the pain signal would be going. "Should be feeling a hell of a lot better now, buddy," he said as he slipped the last temporary block into place. "Leg isn't fixed, but the pain should be mostly gone. Might feel some pressure."

His magical attention back to actually  _healing_  his friend's partially self-inflicted injury, Curly shook his head at Moe's idea. "We've got the compass. That will take us to her so long as we're concentrating on her — it worked to find Larry, it'll work to find Rose. You don't need to be wished into a tracking dog." He had noticed the wish-granter hadn't said a damn thing about the price of such a thing, which immediately raised alarm bells in the prince's mind.

"Give me a few more minutes and Larry's leg should be good for moving with crutches, if the price is okay to get those. Then we check the lift and use the compass to find Rose. If there's anything safe to wish for that could help her right now, we'll wish for it. Otherwise, no wishing — we're no good to her if we've fucked ourselves over."

* * *

Moe sighed in exasperation, his hand running over his short hair. Agitation was clear in his movements, tension wrapping around him like a straitjacket. All he could think about was that she was his friend and that she was alone and hurt in some freaking pit. Rose was probably scared. When Larry didn't go back for her, what did she think? Did she see the other Rose? Did she know they would mistake her? She probably believed no one would come for her, that she was abandoned, forgotten! "Minutes?!" It wasn't hours but the time still sounded too unreasonable. How long had Larry been screwing around with Fake-Rose? And then add on top of that, a freaking cripple was going to lead the way to get to her? How much longer would that take? "She's probably been down there for hours, Curl. Just-just give me the damned compass. You fix him and come after me. He already knows the way and at least someone would be with her. Fuck—Larry you just left her!" he shouted the last, turning to his injured friend.

Immediately Moses knew he shouldn't have yelled and wished he could take his words back. For all he knew, the fake-Rose spelled him or something. And the guy was injured. And his best friend. Moe felt like an ass but he was also very worried about Rose. The catacombs were restricted for a reason. For one, there was no complete map of the area. No one knew how many tunnels and passageways there were  **or**  how structurally sound. Add in some creepy evil magic glowing thing that makes fake people and traps others and the place was a fucking death trap. It was difficult for him not to get pissed and blame Larry for going down there. He was the book-nerd. He was the smartest of them, knew all kinds of things. How did he ever think coming down into the depths of ancient ruins was a smart idea? "Sorry," he said to his friends, cringing a little. "Just wish for the crutches and give me the compass." Moe held out his hand. He was sorry for yelling, but he wasn't waiting around for Larry and his leg.

* * *

"'Dick-brain' can hear you, you know?" Larry said, fiestiness coming back as Curly put up nerve blockers in his leg. Once he couldn't feel the break at all, Larry was able to pick up more on the conversation. " _Pressure, pushing down on me,_ " he half-sang, half-muttered, tuneless as ever. Curly's suggestion made Larry want to go ahead and drag himself over to the lift and start feeling around for a button. Right about then, his self-awareness came crashing back; he hadn't been paying attention to the fact that though he had a shirt on again, his boxers, at least the front of them, were on display. He seized the top and pulled, being careful not to mess up Curly's hard work, but also unwilling to be in such a position anymore.

He felt bad, and then Moe started in on him, and suddenly it was a thousand times worse.

The quietest of the group was cutting him down for leaving Rose behind—and then again, some part of him applauded Moe for the gumption and for caring about a girl. "I can keep up," Larry insisted, "I know I left Rose, but it was not hours ago. Maybe ten minutes now. But you're not leaving without me, not if you're going after her."

* * *

"I wish we had a pair of crutches for Larry." Better to go ahead and wish for that now than wait until after he argued with Moe about splitting up. Because there was no way Curran was going along with that plan. Not after what happened the last time they had split up — not after Halloween.

"We go together," he said, his voice firm and devoid of any of his signature Curly good-humor. "Larry only knows where the fake Rose intercepted him — he doesn't know where she took or put the real Rose, and I am  _not_  letting you go alone, Moe. And we're not wishing you knew where she was so you can go off by yourself either, so don't even ask."

Almost absent-mindedly, he smacked Larry's hands when they started pulling at his pants. "Not done," he said to his friend, the tone essentially telling the other prince that he was not to fucking move until Curly said it was okay. Larry could just suffer the indignity of having his pants open for a while longer — the healer almost considered it punishment for the stupid decisions his friend had made that night.

Ten minutes. It should have been a relief, but a part of Curly knew that it may not matter. Ten minutes or ten hours, it wouldn't matter if the doppelganger had already...

He didn't even want to think the words. "Give me ten more minutes, Moe." It wouldn't be enough to heal Larry's leg, not even to the point that Curly thought he could move around with it. Motion, even on crutches, could fuck up all his work. Especially with the pain receptors blocked. Larry wouldn't feel enough to be careful with it, even if he kept the fact that his leg was broken in mind.

"And maybe something to immobilize Larry's leg. Sturdy sticks and cloth?" A cast would be best if they were going to be running around the catacombs looking for Rose, but the materials wouldn't be easy to wish for, and that would mean even more time waiting for the cast to set.

Maybe he could keep a hand on Larry as they went and work on finished the healing of his leg while they were on the move? He'd never tried that before. Would his magic still do the work it was supposed to if he was walking?

* * *

Moe's pacing did not stop even as he flicked his fingers and granted the wish. His careless frustration had the crutches appearing a foot in the air and clattering loudly onto the stone floor just inches from both Curly and Larry. Moses was losing his cool—the little he had—and his regard for the two guys. The longer it took Curly to give him the damned fucking compass and the longer Larry was still injured, all while Rose was still trapped and alone, was spreading his irritation into anger and directing it not only at Larry but at Curly as well.

"Intercepted? Where the fuck did she intercept him?" Moe demanded. That wasn't what Larry fucking said! "He—you," he turned and focused hard on Larry, "said Rose went down and that... _other one_ came up. A crack! He said. In the fucking earth, Curly. Give me the fucking compass!"

How were they still arguing about this? What bullshit had Curran thinking they would all get to Rose fast enough? How was Curly speaking for Larry when it wasn't what Larry said! And another wish? So close to the last? Wha— Moses stilled instantly as a thought occurred to him. Looking hard at Curly's head, Moses stepped back, distrust rolling off of him in waves. Hell, there was already a fake Rose. What was to say Curly wasn't real? When Moses thought back about it, he couldn't remember his trip down here. Had magic screwed with him?

"What. The fuck. Are you?" he demanded. Moe's voice was suddenly cold and hard, unlike anything that was usual for him. And he had his pistol raised, pointing straight at the head of the possibly-fake Curly.

* * *

Watching Moe pace since he had nothing better to do, Larry mentally compared him to a caged animal. And then the crutches dropped in from no-where and Larry almost flinched himself out of a leg. There was something wrong with Moe, but not like there was something wrong with Rose before he realized that she wasn't the real Rose. The injured Stooge was still a bit slow, though, and couldn't react to the questions until Moe raised the gun.

"MOE!" Larry roared, trying to get his attention, "That's enough! What are you doing?! That's Curly! I'm me! Put it down, please?!" It was chilling to be very close to a loaded weapon. He wasn't a fan of guns to begin with, but being on this side of one was an unpleasant experience.

* * *

When the crutches crashed down next to them, too close, and made Larry flinch, Curly couldn't keep himself from shooting a baleful glare at Moe. The look lasted a fraction of a second before the prince set his jaw and returned his focus to where it needed to be, where it had to be so they could get moving: Larry's leg.

Figuring the other prince would answer their friend's questions, despite his desire to correct Moe's recollection of what Larry had told them, Curly didn't react to the wish-granter's tirade until Larry started shouting. Specifically, the "Put it down," part was what got his attention, making him pull his mind from his work and turn his head to look at his best friend.

What he saw took him a long moment to process, because he did not want to believe the reality in front of him. One of his two best friends in the world pointing a gun at him — at his  _head_  — with the coldest look he had ever seen on the other teen's face. He spent about three seconds trying to deny it, but in second number four, something the healer had been holding back since Larry had finished his story snapped.

"Are you fucking  _serious_?" Instantly, Curran was furious. His best friend pointed a gun at his head and asked him what he was? Like he thought he was some kind of doppleganger like the fake Rose they had let walk away? He wanted to stand up, take the gun away, and punch the fucking idiot in the face!

He almost did. The prince stood, hands moving toward Moe's in motions so well practiced they were more muscle memory than conscious decision, and very nearly carried out the acts that would probably result in a knock-down, drag-out fight between himself and the other teen.

The thing that stopped him from going through with those motions was a simple thought:  _fighting with Moe is a waste of time_. Time that Rose might not have. Time better spent finishing with Larry's leg and finding the princess.

Only... the thought came a little too late to stop Curly from carrying out the motions to take the gun away from Moe.

_Shit._

* * *

For a second Moe's anger and suspicion faltered. Larry was a quiet guy. Bellowing like that wasn't usual and certainly snagged some of the wish-granter's attention. Was he wrong? He could be wrong. And he wanted to believe it because doubting his friends, his best friends, was almost like altering the base of his very existence. In so many ways, his life didn't start or become worth living until he made friends with the pair before him. To take away that trust, to lose faith in them, was some of the worst feelings that cut up into his very core.

And for that second after Curly turned around, Moe believed he saw a flash of his best friends. But then the stranger was back. The anger was new, but only added to the odd behavior that Moses wouldn't put to rights with the guy he knew to be his best friend.  _ **This isn't Curly. This isn't Curly!**_  The thought repeated clearly in his mind. It wasn't so much that Curly never got angry, but he never attacked Moe before. And attack was how he saw the prince's move to take the gun away, nevermind that Moses was the one pointing the gun in the first place. Though the time was in desperate need for some reason, it seemed they were all fresh out.

Moses attempted to counter the possibly-most-definitely-fake Curran's move with another one they both knew and had studied many hours in MA class to get right, that brought the gun down, under his arm, and swung the big oaf shoulder to shoulder with his opponent. But Moe was not as smooth or quick with his hands. He could feel Curly winning as they struggled and the grip of the gun slipping from his grasp. In a panicked move, his hands tightened around the pistol, becoming less nimble, and his finger squeezed the trigger. With a loud crack, a green, semi-iridescent ball shot out toward the wall the gun had been facing. Seconds before the  _bullet_  hit the wall, however, the green ball bloomed out into a net. Web-like in its shape and design, the netting slapped onto the stone surface, clinging to it like a large, glow-in-the-dark, cheezy, halloween decoration. Theoretically, had there been any dangerous magic within the stone, they would have been privy to a little light show as the net de-magicked the issue. But seeing as there was no light show, the stone walls of the catacombs, at least where they were, weren't going to be attacking them at the moment.

Moe coughed through the magic smoke residue that puffed up after the fire and slammed his first into Curran's head before yanking the gun away from him with a hard pull. The hit wasn't full-force not only because he was in an awkward position, but because, even if Curly wasn't Curly, Moses didn't want to actually hurt his best friend. Even if he wasn't his best friend, he still  **looked**  like his best friend.

In the back of his mind, Moe was pleased to see his tinkering actually worked on the gun and was already going over some things that he would possibly change or alter, but in the current situation, none of those positive feelings made it to the surface. "See!" he shouted at Larry, thrusting out the pistol to gesture toward the healer-imposter, sounding absolutely justified in his reasoning. "First he doesn't want me to  **help Rose**  and now he's  **attacking**   **me**!" Because Moe didn't see his weapon as anything threatening or lethal—because it wasn't, even though no one else knew it—he didn't see his actions as anything that warranted attack. Clearly he was under the impression that his actions were reasonable while everyone else's were not. But could he be blamed for thinking such when his one best friend not only left Rose behind but was fooling around with her evil twin double, and knew it. And the other was keeping him from helping Rose out.  **Rose!**  The girl Curly had gone out of his way to befriend. The girl Larry supposedly came down into the  **god-forsaken**  tunnels to help!  **Rose!** He just wanted the bloody  **compass!**

* * *

Larry pulled the crutches to him, no matter how much the action hurt, and planted them on the floor to try and climb up to his feet. This had all gotten out of hand. Way out of hand. He'd never seen this side of Moses and Curran, and Larry absolutely didn't like it. As he made it to his feet, he fought the urge to empty anything in his stomach out onto the floor, having to take a minute to fight the starbursts on his eyes. His mouth was still clammed up from trying not to vomit, so when he tried to tell the pair of his best friends to stop, it came out garbled.

"St-stop it," he grumbled, and then more clearly, "Stop it, Moe. Don't fight him." Taking a few steps, he got close to Moe, and shot Curly a look that he hoped Curly would take the way he meant it; it was a "trust me, please" look.

"You're right Moe. Curly's not acting like himself. My leg doesn't feel too much better either," and then more conspiratorially, "So this guy isn't Curly? I couldn't tell past my leg. I'll get the compass and we'll go down, me and you. Maybe the real Curly will catch up. I could still use the real Curly's help." Turning around, Larry made to check the niche for a way to go back down easily, but he hadn't seen exactly where the doppleganger had pressed and eventually gave it up.

So, Larry reached for the compass and whispered, "Fix yourself up and find us in a few minutes. And try not to stay mad. It's not helping."

* * *

Considering how two people grappling for a gun always ended in movies, Curly probably should have expected the pistol to go off. Maybe, in part of his mind, he did — after all, even while trying to get the weapon away from his best friend, he tried to make sure it was pointed away from both of them  _and_  away from Larry. What he definitely did not expect — but probably should have, considering who the gun belonged to — was for the green ball that spread out into a garish glowing net to shoot out along with a cloud of residual smoke.

The surprise of the gun going off and what came out when it did held him in place — well, that and the coughing fit caused by the smoke of the shot. Moe's fist colliding with his head knocked him out of it, but even as the gun was yanked decisively away from him, Curly didn't move. He stood still while his body finished clearing his lungs of the smoke and stared at the net spread across the wall, listening to Moe yell and Larry try to placate him.

Larry's words about not staying mad weren't really necessary. Curly had already recognized that being mad, fighting with Moe, as much as his stressed out mind would like to, wouldn't help anything. It would just waste time. Time that would be much better spent fixing Larry's leg and going to find Rose.

That didn't mean the prince wasn't mad though — he was furious. He wanted to scream his reasoning at Moe, snap at Larry to sit down before he did  _more_  damage to his leg; he wanted to take out his frustrations about this whole fucked up situation on his best friends and even more than it being a waste of time, that action was completely unacceptable.

Still. He couldn't keep the heat out of his voice when he turned his head and snapped at Larry, "Don't patronize him. Moe's not gonna fall for that, no matter how crazy he's acting." At least he kept himself from telling the other prince to sit down.

Taking a deep, careful breath, Curly looked at Moe. "You think I'm an imposter because I won't give you the compass so you can go after Rose. You want to know why I won't give you the compass? Because then one of my best friends goes off  _alone_  in a dangerous place, trying to save another friend that we don't even know is..." He cut himself off, closing his eyes with his jaw clenched as he took another deep breath. He couldn't say the words — if he said them, they might be true. When he opened his eyes and continued, his voice was firm. "If something happened to you, we might never find you. And I'd never forgive myself. Because I let you have the compass and go off alone.

"If I went with you, Larry would be alone. That's not acceptable either. Larry shouldn't be moving. His leg is fucked. I need to heal it more before he gets up and walks around, even with crutches." On this last, he couldn't help but glare at the blond.

"I  _hate_  that Rose is alone and probably terrified, maybe hurt, and we're not going after her  _right now_. But I'm not leaving either of you alone. We stick together. No matter what. So can we all  _please_  sit down, let me at least stabilize Larry's leg, and  _then_  we go after Rose?"  _We've already wasted enough time_.

* * *

Moses flushed red with anger as he saw right through Larry's ruse and he realized that his best friend thought that  _he_ was the crazy one.  _What the fuck is wrong with everyone?!_ It was tempting to raise his SM(semi-magic) gun again—now that he knew it worked—and net  **both** of them. But Moe was already feeling a little guilty for punching fake-Curran and Larry's leg was still messed up. Whatever. Moe just didn't like hitting his friends, fake or not, and netting an injured Larry, whether he was being stupid or not, was not that much better.

Lucky, in a way, for Moses that Curly started up and, thankfully, started to sound more like the best buddy that Moses knew. There were parts, especially at the end, that Moe wanted to contest, but his anger was mostly deflated with guilt over hitting possibly-not-fake-Curran and for wasting precious time, as his possibly-still-his-real-friend pointed out. Rose. Rose was the important one. She was the one he needed to save. Even if fake-Prince of Corona was still the fake one and he lost his real friend somewhere, Rose was the one he had to help now. And at the moment, fake-or-not-Curly was speaking logically. He was wasting precious time arguing and fighting. He wasn't willing to hurt his possible-friends more just to take the fucking compass so, with visible reluctance, Moses gave the princes a stiff nod and turned away to examine, or look like he was going to examine, the net. In truth, he was giving the two boys space as well as himself. Even if Curly was Curly and not fake-Curly, Moses was still tense and anxious. Mostly the feelings revolved around Rose, he couldn't stop thinking about her in the worst situations and scenarios, but there was also a part of his conscious that felt like something  _else,_ something  _other_  was down there with them. Messing with them. Messing with  _ **him.**_

Moe's fists flexed and he focused on the magical net that looked like very cool-slash-corny Halloween decor.

* * *

Balancing himself on one leg, Larry again felt sick to his stomach. He realized by just how much he was overdoing it about the time that Curly's voice took on the muffled attributes that signaled passing out. Getting to the nearest wall, sitting back down was a harder task than Larry anticipated, at least easing himself back into a sitting position. He would have taken umbridge with the tone of voice Curly used, except he was thoroughly exhausted and the fog of pain was breaking through his healer friend's blockade.

_Ow,_  he thought, eyes roaming until they landed on Moe. If he had his full mental capacity, he would have never suggested pulling the wool over Moe's eyes, knowing it would never work. The muffled sounds had been heeded too late, because they had morphed into some sort of demonic ringing. " _Désolé, mes amis,_ " Larry said too loudly, not meaning to, and getting a wild burst of bright lights across his vision, " _Je ne vois plus_." He didn't quite realize that he had switched to French, too busy loathing the ringing in his head, which had pretty much stolen all of his attention.

Things had snowballed into a chaotic mess. Here he was on the floor in the school's basement, fighting off passing out from the pain of a broken leg, wanting to throw up because the place had turned into a Tilt-a-Whorl, and slightly panicking because his two best friends had never seemed more at odds and of the three of them he assumed he was the one who needed the other two the most. Also, he had lost a princess in the scary catacombs and life was not good at the current moment.

_"J'ai mal à la jambe. Je suis désolé d'avoir fait un tel gâchis de choses. Je ne pense pas que la double me laisser seul si je ne me blessé sérieusement; je ne pense pas que l'un par. Quelqu'un at-il d'eau? Je suis tout à coup très soif."_ Was he yelling? How could anyone hear over the noise in his ears?

* * *

Relief flushed most of the lingering anger from Curly's system at Moe's acceptance, allowing him to return his friend's nod with a grateful air before he turned to tend to Larry.

Who, it seemed, was on the verge of passing out. The prince of Corona could barely make out the slurred words, let alone assign meaning to them. Mostly, he caught the apologetic tone and the tail end of Larry saying he was thirsty. "Sorry, buddy," he replied. "I didn't grab any water." That was probably a mistake, just like so many others that had been made tonight, but Curly tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on repairing the damage Larry had done to his leg.

There were cases where Curly lost track of time when he was healing, but this was not one of those cases. As he poured magic into his friend's leg, he was aware of every second ticking by, even slow minute that meant Rose was alone, scared, and probably much worse. Perhaps in another situation, such thoughts would have hindered his work, but in this, they seemed to fuel the prince's magic. In only slightly more than ten minutes, he had finished fixing what Larry had messed up with his premature moving around and beyond, stabilizing the break to his satisfaction.

"Alright," he said, lifting his hands away from the faint golden glow coming from Larry's leg and positioning them to help the other prince up. "That should be good enough for now. Moe." He turned his head, holding out the compass to the other teen. "You take the lead; I'm going to try to keep a hand on Larry and see if I can keep working on this fracture as we go."

* * *

It was probably a good thing he had punched that tree, because in the time it was taking Curly to fix Larry, Moe really wanted to punch the walls. Only the solid memory of the near-blinding pain that had him so very close to passing out kept him from acting on his anger and his urge. Well, the memory of the tree, the fresh guilt from hitting his best buddy(regardless of his doubt to the authenticity of said friend), and a lingering thought that he had been getting violent lately. In general, Moses wasn't an angry guy. He wasn't necessarily laid back, but Raging Asshole was not usually on his resume either.

Despite these thoughts, Moe still simmered with furious anxiety over Rose's unknown condition and the lengthening time. Every minute that ticked by felt loud and slow, beating at his insecurities with mounting pressure. He ignored the grunts and whispers from Larry and Curly, choosing, instead, to continue the farce of inspecting his work when all he could really think about was Rose.  ** _Rose Rose Rose._** The girl who was trapped in some unknown place with some unknown magic. The girl who still sort of freaked him out and who had bothered him on more than one occasion because they had that one conversation and he had called her his friend.

**_And she accepted._ **

_**Fucking finally.**_  Moe bit his mouth shut and only grunted in reply, keeping back his crappy and completely unhelpful thought. When Curly offered the compass, Moses snatched it away greedily and was already stepping toward the exit before he remembered that even if he was sort of (stubbornly) unsure about Curly's authenticity, Larry was still his real best friend. And Moe was being a douchebag! "Are you sure you'll both make it?" he asked. The wish-granter was still frowning deeply, but there was real concern in his voice. Larry, on closer inspection, looked like shit and trekking through the hellhole they were in wasn't going to help anything. And Curly was planning on healing while they moved around for Rose? The guy had to be tired from all he'd put into Larry already. Doing more as they moved sounded worse. But Moses could appreciate their sacrifice all the same. Rose needed them.

* * *

As Larry came back to himself, like the tide receding, he wished, internally, that he had never purposefully broken his leg. Even if it was to escape the doppleganger. It had been a terrible idea. Curly had him healed enough in ten minutes to rise, put his weight on his good leg, and get the crutches beneath him. Putting Moe in the lead, healing Larry as he went: Curly seemed to have a good grasp on how to navigate all three of them down. Being the invalid of the group was annoying, but he had only himself to blame. Basically, he was glad to be about to move, about to go after Rose.

"I'm sure that I'll be able to make it," Larry reassured Moe, even while likely being white as a sheet. It was a whole different thing to be upright than be on the ground.

They set out, Larry muscling past every bad feeling and generally feeling them less and less as Curly worked his magic. Keeping his eyes on Moe's back, Larry hardly noticed the scenery until they came to the staircase he and Rose stopped on. Thoughts forcing themselves to be said aloud, Larry said, "Rose and I stopped right here. She was afraid to go any further, but I talked her into it. If only I hadn't..."

Down they went, Larry taking the stairs very carefully with his crutches.

* * *

-oOo-

Rose sat in the freezing water, leaning back against the cold, stone wall. It had been… how long? She had transformed back, so it must have been after sunrise. A whole night had gone by from the time she started down the stairs with Larry. One night? It felt like much, much longer. Rose couldn't tell time down here, but it felt like an eternity since Odile imprisoned her at the bottom of this grave and left her for dead.

At first, she hadn't just taken it lying down. As soon as she was able to become a human again, the princess had tried climbing out, but the walls were too smooth, too wet and slick. She had tried screaming for help, she had tried to look for weak spots in the stone, anything she could use. When it became clear escape was impossible, she started moving, keeping her body as active as possible. The water barely reached the middle of her thighs, and while in swan form it wasn't that big of a deal, the human side of her could only survive so long in frigid water. Eventually, fatigue had taken over, and she had began to lose feeling in her legs. Unable to stand up anymore, Rose just sat down in the corner, leaning against the cold stone. She cried so long and so hard, that soon she was simply no longer able to shed a single tear. Not that it mattered anyway. What was the point in resisting? What difference did it make if she died later rather than sooner?

Rose vaguely registered that she had stopped shivering. The princess knew what this meant — her body was shutting down. She was becoming hypothermic but was too tired, too sleepy to do anything about it.

Thoughts of Larry chased each other in her tired head. Had Odile gotten to him? Did he figure out that it wasn't her before it was too late? Did she hurt him? … Kill him? Rose couldn't help it — she was so worried. Odile had no real reason to hurt him, and she was supposedly good at deception, tricking even Rose's father into believing she was her mother. Maybe she would be content to fool Larry too? Rose latched onto that thought, hoped, prayed it was true, because thinking of the alternative, knowing there was nothing she could do, it would drive her crazy. So perhaps, if Larry was fooled, then… then he would think Odile was her and simply leave this place, making it to the surface unharmed. Rose needed to believe that.

She, however… she was probably not going to make it. There was an old superstition in Oloria: The Swan Song. Allegedly, a swan sang a sad tune when it was on the brink of death. A silly legend, of course — swans had no time to sing if they were dying. But Rose had time. And she was dying.

As she mentally flipped through the songs she knew, her thoughts ran back to Larry and the time she visited him in the Infirmary. He had accused her of favouring love songs; rather ironic for someone who knew literally nothing of love. She wished she had learned a wider variety, maybe played something more lively for him. Ah, well. Too late for that now. It was just as well anyway, she didn't exactly have the energy to sing something upbeat at the moment. A song came to mind, but it was getting hard to think — she couldn't remember the beginning. Rose grasped at the bit she could recall, and her voice echoed in the grave.

" _Say nighty-night and... kiss me… Just hold me tight... and tell me... you'll miss me_ …"

Would anyone miss her? Would anyone remember her? Her parents would die before they even knew. Her grandfather might mourn her, and Rogers as well… The Stooges might remember her as that one girl they knew in high school. Maybe. Or she would be just another one of Curly's charity cases, only a link in a long chain of people he tried to help, known so briefly her face just blurred together with the rest. But none would miss the uptight, prim princess who was too stiff, too rigid to have fun. What was there to be missed? She was only a doll after all, dressed and groomed to be a certain way in order to be a good ruler. Oloria might honour her for a day or two, but after a week, she'd fade into obscurity.

No one would remember that there was once a lonely girl named Rose, who died before she could make an impact on anything.

" _While I'm alone and blue as can be… dream a little dream of me_."

The princess wondered if her lips had turned blue yet. Probably, seeing as she was so close to death. She would die here, in the most awful way possible — cold and alone, surrounded by water, in the bottom of a dark grave.

" _Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_ …"

Sunbeams… Right at that moment, Rose couldn't imagine anything more wonderful than feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin again.

" _Sweet dreams that leave all worries... behind you_ …"

There was no point in worrying about Larry. She couldn't help him now, she couldn't even help herself. And then it hit her like a ton of bricks: she would never see him again. Or Moe. Or Curly. The thought felt like a literal knife had just plunged itself in her chest, and it suddenly became harder to breathe. One last tear slowly rolled down her face and caused ripples in the water as it fell from her cheek.

" _But in your dreams, whatever they be… you gotta make me a promise_ …"

She was so tired. Too tired to keep her eyes open anymore. Her voice was becoming weaker.

" _Promise to me… you'll dream... dream a little... of me_..."

It was so cold...


	15. Chapter 15

The compass led the Stooges unfailingly down, coming to the room with the columns made of bones and skulls. Larry got the feeling that it wasn't as dangerous in this room as it had been before, leading him to believe that the spectre he thought he had seen was part of the doppleganger's magic. They were led to the column Rose had opened, the one with the ladder down into the chamber with the frozen water. He tested his leg, covertly. "I think I can make it down the ladder. I'll go last."

When at last they were past the room with the frozen water, into the chamber that had the statue, Larry pointed at the rope that was still hanging down into the hole. "That's the best way down," he told his friends, "Other than the ride down Rose got with the statue. This was the last place I saw her."

Larry was healed enough to lower himself through the hole and down the rope. He stopped at the bottom and when all three were regrouped, Larry again watched Moe's back as he led the way. Coming to a door, Larry caught the fading sound of a voice. He'd know it anywhere.

"Rose!" he whispered. "The door. She's in there!"

Hope! Worry! Trying to open the door, trying to get into the room. Things happened in slow-motion.

The room was so strange, but Larry hobbled in as if he knew the layout.

There! The thing that reminded him of a tomb. He went to the edge and looked in.

" _Mon dieu,_ " Larry breathed, looking at a Rose that seemed frozen. "Rose!"

* * *

With his mind caught up in healing Larry's leg while moving, Curly didn't have attention to spare for their surroundings. He simply followed his friends as Moe led them through the catacombs, keeping just enough of his awareness on where Larry was going to keep from tripping and falling on his face.

He grimaced as they went down the stairs, clenching his jaw against the desire to say that Larry couldn't do this. His nails bit into his palms when his friend said he would go last down the ladder, but he didn't argue. Then came the rope, and even though Curly knew Larry's leg was well enough for the climb, it still killed him a little bit to let the other teen go down on his own. The overabundance of worry was irrational, something Curly would normally have been able to push aside with ease, but it stuck with him for some reason tonight.

But when they all heard the faint sound of Rose's voice through that door, the dark-haired teen's concern was forced back by the realization that they had found the princess and all the emotions that accompanied that fact.

"Rose!" he called, coming to a stop beside Larry, his hands clenched on the edge of the stone sarcophagus. Peering down into the dark, he could barely see – but there was just enough light to make out the pale blob of their friend's blonde hair and the gleam of water, the hole too deep to reach her by themselves.

More than anything, the sight of that water scared Curly. He shoved away from the side of the coffin, bolting for rope they had just come down before common sense stopped him, and he turned to call to Larry. "There's another way out, right? We don't need the rope?" But he didn't wait for an answer, replaying the prince's story and remembering the doppelganger had not taken the same path out as Rose and Larry had taken in.

"I'll get the rope! We'll lower Larry down and pull them both back up." Again, he didn't wait for an answer and raced back the way they had come. They had to get Rose out of that water as soon as possible.

* * *

They had found Rose faster than he'd expected, but frustration and fear wouldn't allow Moe even a little hint of satisfaction because even if they were there, Rose was still down in the fucking hole in the damned floor and he couldn't get to her. "Rose!"  _Fuck!_ She wasn't moving, and his eyes strained to see if she was even breathing.

And he was useless. Fuck load of good the compass did him. Yeah, it brought him to her, but now it was just a stupid fucking toy, a thing in his hand that didn't help in any way to get Rose the hell out of the hole and back to safety. He wanted them to wish, he wanted Larry and Curly and the fucking universe to wish her out of there.  **Screw the price! The consequences! All of it.**  He just wanted her out and alright. His hands gripped the end of the hole, sending crumbles of stone and dirt to echo down. Moses wanted to argue, to protest Curly's plan, all because he didn't want Larry to get her. He wanted to get her himself if, at the very least, to make sure she was okay first. And maybe he didn't trust Larry at the moment. Not only was the guy injured but  _he was the goddamn fucker who left her down in the shitting hole in the first place!_ "Fuck. Rose!"

Moses looked up from the hole, where he knelt, and at Curly. He wanted to be the one to get her, but managing to think a little more rationally, he realized that him going down there wasn't the best thing for Rose. He understood that because Larry was the smallest and lightest of the three of them, he would be easier to haul back up with Rose. But that still wasn't the best choice. For Rose. "You should be the one to go in," he told the Prince of Corona. "You'll be able to heal her down there instead of waiting to pull her up here. And if you can get her fixed sooner, the better. Then Larry and I can pull you both up." Fuck, even if Larry couldn't help much with the pulling, Moe would get them up himself if he had to.

While Curly disappeared after the rope, Moe strained against the edge of the hole. He didn't like Rose down there, that was an understatement, but he couldn't move on from it. Every moment, every second it took Curly to get the fucking rope, grated on him. She was lying so still, and when she moved or when she made a noise, he barely held himself back from diving in.

* * *

The water didn't feel cold anymore. The stone against her cheek was no longer hard. Rose was slowly growing numb to everything around her, her consciousness edging closer and closer to the darkness with each second. She was tired. Tired of holding on, tired of fighting to stay awake, tired of crying. All she wanted to do was let go, leave the pain and the cold behind, stop struggling with the inevitable and simply be at peace.

There were noises in the distance, but they were too far away to matter. Rose thought she heard Larry's voice, and her keen mind registered that she must be starting to hallucinate, one of the signs of late-stage hypothermia. More voices added to the choir ringing in the empty tomb, and she said to herself that hallucinating of her friends calling for her was actually not that bad for a last sound she'd ever hear. It was all somehow comforting, like a last wave goodbye. Even if it wasn't real.

"Goodbye," she tried to say to the figments of her imagination, using the very last bit of strength she had, but the words came out as a barely audible, hoarse whisper. Some rubble fell into the water, creating circles in its smooth surface, but again, Rose was too tired to even look up, too exhausted from fighting to stay alive. What was the point anyway? Fighting was hard. Giving in was easy. All she had to do was let go and just… sleep.

* * *

Was it his imagination or was Rose still moving? Larry's head whipped around to see if Curly had run back into the room yet. That rope idea was going to take too much time; time that he REALLY thought they didn't have. The water in the bottom of that must have been cold, because even if he couldn't see her face, what skin he could see was pale.

"We have to get her out of there," Larry said in agreement, turning to look at Moe. The distress of his friend was evident on his face. Larry looked down again into the place where Rose was, and amended his statement, "We have to get her out of there,  _now_. She doesn't have time for ropes. Moe, I accept the consequences, whatever they'll be. Pull me out as soon as you can, if you can. I wish I could switch places with Rose, so she's up here and I'm down there."

Larry hoped it would happen quickly. He hoped he would blink and be down in the hole where Rose had been and she would be above where he had been. He hoped that Moe would throw caution to the wind and grant his wish. He had to do whatever he could to help Rose and he would be no help any other way.

* * *

When Rose made another sound, Moses couldn't wait for Curly anymore, and the second Larry gave him a reason not to, he jumped on it. Moe had already made the decision to grant Larry's wish even as he gave his best friend a warning for the consequences. "Understand that the magic will interpret switching places as  _it_  sees fit. Whether that be simply changing physical space, changing physical bodies, spiritual souls, et cetera. It could possibly cause more harm than good. Understand this and that once the wish is granted, there are not changes or alterations to your wish." With that, Moe nodded quickly, leaving no chance to change anything, and said, "Your wish is granted." Magic, thick, heavy, and powerful suffused the chamber, radiating outward from Moses and taking pointed focus on the person before him and the one in the hole. Moe stared as the magic coalesced and condensed into a bright, solid mass—this magic, this wish was more complex than the previous ones. Where those were simple moving of objects, Larry's lack of specifics in his wish created a whole, a vacuum for magical interpretation. Whatever was about to happen was nothing as simple as manifesting a pair of crutches. This had to do with people, organics, souls, bodies, minds. This was  **dangerous.**

Maybe later he would feel guilt for sacrificing his best friend for Rose. Maybe not. But make no mistake; Moses North was fully aware of the danger he was placing his friend in—friends, with an 's', actually—but he was not currently in a rational enough space to care. All he wanted was Rose out of there and with him. And he needed it now.

Just before the magical essence became too bright to look at, it blinked out and Larry's wish was granted.

* * *

Curly realized the flaw in his plan the moment he reached the spot the rope hung down into the corridor he stood in—yes, he could get the rope and they would be able to use it to bring Rose out of that hole in the ground, but it would take  _time_. Time he wasn't sure they had.

Grabbing the end, the prince pulled the rope down the corridor until it went taut, yanking and shaking it to see if he could dislodge where Larry had tied it up top. When his efforts accomplished nothing other than making him sweat, he stopped and forced himself to think. Unfortunately, he found it difficult to keep his thoughts focused on the problem of getting the rope  _down_ so they could use it.

His mind kept spinning back to how long Rose had been in the water, how far her hypothermia—because make no mistake, there was not a chance in heaven or hell that the water wasn't nearly freezing cold—had progressed, and how much longer she might be able to survive before they got her out. That was one of his time concerns.

The other, he almost feared worse: Moe and Larry and what they might do in their desperation to rescue Rose. Normally he trusted Moe to tell them when a wish was too much, but after having his friend point a magical gun at his head, Curly knew the other teen wasn't thinking clearly. Larry was just as bad—the normally level-headed prince had made more than one questionable decision tonight. It was a sad and almost maddening feeling for Curran, this worry of whether he could trust his friends right now. He could only hope he got the rope and made it back to them before either did anything reckless.

In other circumstances, the thought might have made him laugh— _he_ was supposed to be the reckless one, yet here he was, feeling like the most rational of his friends.

Frustrated with the circles his mind ran in, he yanked again, expecting nothing, only to fall on his ass when the rope suddenly went slack. It took him more than a second to process that, miraculously, the knot had come undone, but as soon as Curly realized it, he was gathering up the rope and running back toward the room he had left the others in.

He reached the doorway just in time to hear Moe utter those fateful words. Before the protest could even form on his lips, magic rushed into the room, painfully bright, and forced him to shut his eyes. As soon as the dazzling light faded, Curly blinked the spots from his vision and stepped into the room.

" _What did you do?_ " But he didn't really need an answer to that question, because there, plain as day, was Rose—sopping wet and slumped over as Moe caught her before she completely hit the ground beside the hole, and Larry nowhere to be seen. He was at her side before Curly even realized he was moving, the rope dropped in a pile beside Moe as the healer-prince pulled her into his arms.

Her skin felt like ice against his own, her clothes quickly leaving large wet splotches where he held her to him. He couldn't tell if she was conscious, but as soon as he registered the slow rise and fall of her chest, her heart beating under his palm, he knew she was still alive. And as long as she was alive, he could fix her, and that was enough reassurance for Curly to look into the hole again—with his darker hair, Larry was not as easy to make out as Rose, but he was still visible.

"Get him out of there," Curly said to Moe. It was only the relief that Rose was safe that kept him from screaming at his two best friends. How could either of them be this stupid? Why didn't they wait? How many times had Moe told them that wishing was dangerous, that it had  _consequences_? A wish like this… whatever Larry had actually wished, he couldn't imagine it had been well-thought-out, and he didn't even want to think about what the consequences would be.

Shutting out the anger, he turned his focus inward, tapping into his magic and sending a flood of it into Rose. Hypothermia wasn't something he had ever tried to heal—in this, he had to trust the healing power of the sun to do what it was always meant to do.

* * *

Light shone brightly from somewhere above, illuminating the pit of the grave. Rose's sluggish brain barely had enough time to process the fact when it blinded her, overwhelming all her other senses. The support of the stone disappeared from her back, and the princess keeled over, losing her balance. For a second, everything was deafeningly quiet as she stared blankly into the space in front of her, seeing nothing. Too exhausted to keep them open, she slowly let her eyes close once again, not even fully registering that she was outside the grave, no longer in water.

Then Rose heard a muffled sound from somewhere far, far away. A voice. It drew her back from the stupor and the drowsiness, and she forced her heavy eyelids open. A silhouette loomed over her, smudged and fuzzy. In the next second the world tilted as someone held her up, disorienting her even further. She slowly came to realise that a person was next to her, a real, tangible person. Or maybe just an extremely vivid hallucination. In her current state, she couldn't tell the difference. Hope fluttered in her chest like a caged bird, and though her mind was seriously impaired, it still jumped to the most logical conclusion when it came to the identity of the person. His name slipped from her lips.

"Larry?"

It took a bit of will for her to focus. A pair of eyes gazed down at her with concern, but they were light hazel, not brown. Other shapes took a more solid form. Dark hair instead of blond. Less pointed chin. A slightly upturned nose.

_Curly._

For a moment, Rose was too stunned to react. How had he found her? How did he even know there was a need to look?... Did it matter?

Some base instinct sparked in the back of her head, and she wanted to reach for him, make sure he was really there, but she was just so  _tired_. "You found me," Rose managed to whisper. Her eyelids felt heavy again, too heavy to keep open, but her mouth stretched into a dizzy smile as she leaned into him. Confusion clouded her thoughts, made it hard to remember, to think. Feelings and memories all churned together into a cloudy fog, and Rose could barely tell where she was anymore, or  _who_  was in front of her. "I'm sorry I always sing love songs. I'll sing you something more upbeat next time, okay? You can choose; I'll learn it for you."

* * *

The magic was temporarily blinding as it flared and pulled Larry from one place to another.  _Merde!_ The water  _was_ cold, so, so  _cold_! And his leg was throbbing. At least being close to the wall meant he didn't topple over after Moe's power granted his wish and put him in the hole. He also had a chance to feel what he could of the walls. No small wonder that Rose hadn't climbed out; there were no fingerholds to be had on the smooth-as-glass surface. Above, he heard Curly's voice, and was it his imagination or did Rose's almost whispering voice sound off too?

He waited for the eventual drop of the rope that Curly had apparently retrieved and then finagled himself into a position that eventually got him out of the hole. Once above—he had to crawl out without the aid of one leg—Larry took stock of himself and when he considered that all in all, he didn't feel different from how he had gone in, except that he was wet and cold.

"How is she?" Larry asked.

* * *

As soon as Rose appeared, Moe was there, catching her just before she hit the ground. Elation and relief burst in his chest—Rose was finally out of the hole. But the feeling only lasted a second before Curly was taking her from him. It was then, he felt the cold. From the water and wet of her body, on his hands, arms, skin, where he'd touched her. Curly had taken her away before he could be certain she was alright for himself.

But he was standing and stepping back, away from Rose's body, giving Curly space. And as a tightening in his chest clutched, he told himself that no one could help her right then more than Curran. But that didn't ease the feeling.

Moses ignored the Prince when he'd hissed about the wish and he was ignoring him now with regards to Larry. A sharp, dark feeling hardened his jaw as he watched Curly hold her. A voice whispered, growled with bitter anger.  _Of course, **now** , he cares. Now he freaks out.  **Now** that I got her out of there. Now that she is finally safe._ An image flashed in his mind, harsh and cruel, of Curly falling back into the hole, right next to Larry, Moe's hand helping his decent. Twisted justification. Dark satisfaction. And another image of Moe turning his back on the hole, the two princes, with Rose in his arms.

His fist clenched tight as Moses held his ground and watched as another voice reminded, almost frantically, that Rose needed Curly. She wasn't out of the woods yet. And, oh yes, Curly and Larry were his  **friends.**  His  **best** friends.

Thankfully, Rose spoke, and at the sound of her voice, the grip on his chest released. A renewed sense of relief flooded his system with the knowledge that she was alive, smothering a smaller, sharper sting of envy. Knowing Curly would fix her, Moe turned his back on the couple, picked up the rope, and tossed an end down into the hole. Now he fished Larry out.

"Alive," Moe answered when he finally got Larry up top. "How's the leg?"

* * *

"It'll be okay. I can walk, I think," Larry answered Moe, trying to be optimistic. Being left here was something he almost thought he deserved for his behavior earlier, but Larry was a selfish being and he wouldn't rest unless he knew Rose was better and out of the hole that was the catacombs. "We can take her to..." he trailed off, not sure what to call the doppelganger he had been lured by, "We can go where the lifts are. Maybe there's another one that will take us all to the top. I doubt we can get the rope back to where it was, and even if we could, Rose couldn't climb it, right?"

His brain and his mouth were working almost at the same pace, his eyes going to Rose and Curly, but his mouth had won out in the last round. "Or, should we just wait around for Curly to heal Rose and take it from there?"

* * *

The process of simply dumping healing magic into another person's body was not as mentally occupying as actually guiding it toward a certain task—even if it was the most exhaustive use of his ability—leaving Curly's mind free for once.

Free to worry and free to the relief that almost made him dizzy when Rose opened her eyes. Even free to feel a smidge of disappointment when the first name out of the princess's mouth wasn't his own, but Larry's. As her blue eyes focused on his face and surprise briefly widened them, though, he knew she recognized him, and that smile… who cared if she thought he was Larry at first?

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Rose," the prince said, a hint of confused amusement—made up of at least half relief—in his voice. "But if you want to sing something… I won't stop you."

He could hear Larry and Moe talking, releasing the tightness in his chest that he hadn't even known was there until Rose was out of the hole. His friends were all with him and whether they were out of the proverbial woods or not, that made Curran feel as if everything was going to be okay. They'd figure out how to get back to the surface, do something about the Rose doppelganger, and spend the rest of the weekend chilling in the Stooges' dorm room.

Though… yeah, he should probably concentrate on making sure Rose could stay conscious before he made grand plans of escape and video game marathons. "Hey guys," he called, turning his head towards his best friends, though his eyes didn't leave Rose's face. "Mind singing something for Rose? She was talking about songs." With her eyes closed, he wasn't even sure she was still conscious, but that didn't matter with her close enough to touch, to heal.

* * *

Curly… singing…

A memory made its way to the surface, a scene where he explained how his powers worked, telling a story of a girl with long, magical hair, and a certain healing song…

Trying to remember the song pulled her even further away from the shadows her tired consciousness was longing to sink into. Staying awake, thinking, it was all a struggle right now. But singing was easy. Simple. The melody came to her effortlessly and the words lined up with it, barely requiring any active thought.

" _Flower, gleam… and glow… Let your power… shine… Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine…_ " Warmth surged through her, somewhere under her skin, spreading through her limbs to the tips of her fingers, lingering in her heart. With each second her voice grew stronger, as the golden light danced behind her eyes, bringing her back to life. " _Heal what has been hurt, change the Fate's design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… What once was… mine…_ "

The sleepiness was retreating. Rose slowly became more aware of her surroundings; her thoughts began to run smoothly once again. More memories bubbled to the surface as she tried to piece together the whole ordeal, starting from the current point in time and going backwards.

Firstly, she wasn't going to die—Curly was there, and he wouldn't let it happen. Secondly, she was out of the water… somehow. The how was a bit unclear, but she'd have to figure it out in a second. Thirdly, Odile wasn't around, which meant that she must have made it to the surface with… with…

Rose's eyes snapped open, panic piercing her chest.

"Larry!"

She lurched forward, immediately feeling the ill effects of such a sudden move. The world spun violently, and she groaned, fighting back the urge to vomit. "I have to find him," she babbled, "He could be hurt, he's in danger! I have to find Larry!" Her heart was pounding in her ears, her limbs aching with a sharp, stinging pain, and soon what little strength she'd gathered from the song faded away, forcing her to grip Curly's shoulder in an attempt to centre herself, though her body was still tense, burning to get up and go looking for her friend.

* * *

_Lifts?_ "What lifts?" Moe was seriously starting to wonder how the hell he managed to walk all the way down to the catacombs and not remember a damn thing about the trip. Sure, he'd had Curly to lead him and, yes, he'd been more asleep than awake, but the whole trip? Inclines, declines, caves, tunnels, entryways, and now lifts? He was missing a flipping elevator?

With all the spooky feelings and creepy dopplegangers, it was difficult for Moe not to be paranoid about his missing trip. Just moments ago he was certain something had taken over his best friend. Just moments ago he was truly contemplating leaving his friends to fuck off and take Rose alone. What if  _they_ weren't the ones possessed? What if  _he_ was?  _What the fuck._ Moe half tuned out of what was going on and being said and tried to focus on himself and his missing memory. It was a long fucking trip. He had to have at least something he remembered about it.

Moe was trying to figure out where to start when the words  **'Sing for Rose'** blew his train of thought apart, instantly reconfiguring his brain function to the Hooligans singing Savage Garden's Truly Madly Deeply, The Friends' very annoyingly catchy theme song, and his own very horrible rendition of TLC's Waterfalls song. The last being his guilty pleasure and one song he could never not sing when it came to mind. He knew  **all** the words.

Thankfully, just as he was opening his mouth to belt out, Rose woke up. The frantic panic in her voice had Moe's heart thundering away in his chest, adrenaline spiking throughout his body. Again, the desire to rip her away from Curly and take her to safety himself was so intense his body flexed to move. But Moses didn't move. Not a muscle, not until she started babbling. And then it was only a step. A single step toward the girl he'd wanted to risk everything and everyone for, to save. But a dark, petty jealousy was seeping into his chest and holding him back. A sneering thought to her lack of need for him, her presence in Curran's arms, and Larry's name on her lips. The bones in his hands creeked as his fists tightened.  _I should have just left her in the hole._

The thought was so dark and wrong that it snapped the Djinn out of the malevolent sludge that was fucking with his base-code. Shit. Moses North was really starting to believe he was infected somehow. But how? When? Where could he have downloaded a major, mind-fucking virus? As Rose panicked, Moe found himself stepping back, and then again, until he was set apart from the worrying girl, the collected healer, and the broken elemental. If he was infected...Maybe it was better than Rose didn't know he was there. Maybe it was best if he wasn't there at all.

* * *

"I'm right here, Rose," Larry said, concerned that she didn't focus on him and also side-eyeing Moe.

He backed away, and the detachment, while not obvious, was concerning. Given all that had happened that night, anyway; creepy not-versions of people, creepier descents into hell, creepy reactions from people he cared about, like they'd lost their minds. Was Moe's behavior related to the witch woman? Had she spelled him like she had spelled Rose to lure them down into the depths of the school's history? Anything was possible tonight, it seemed.

"Moe? Are you alright?" Larry asked quietly, for Moe's ears only. He was torn between scooting closer to the Wonderland wiz-kid and the princess of Oloria, upset momentarily enough not to move.

"Are we all well enough to leave this place?" Larry asked louder than before. He looked between Curly and Rose and Moe, hoping that the answer would be positive. They'd all been through it that night, and fresh air above ground seemed like the only balm to his frayed nerves.

* * *

Familiar as the song was, when Rose started singing it, Curly didn't immediately recognize it for what it was. He'd only sung it once for her, the song serving both its original role in the story of his parents and to demonstrate his terrible singing ability—how had she remembered it? But then something seemed to take hold of him, inside his magic, and he felt it pouring out of him in a rush stronger than he could ever remember experiencing it.

When it stopped—coinciding strangely with the last word of the song—Curly felt dizzy, exhaustion making his head swim, and Rose was jerking upright out of his arms. The next few seconds, all he really heard was the pounding of his own pulse in his ears, his vision filled with spots. When the swooshing and spots subsided, the first thing he heard was Larry's voice asking if they were well enough to leave.

Rose's grip on his shoulder was surprisingly strong for someone who not two minutes ago was nearly unconscious. "Sure," Curly responded vaguely to Larry's question, forcing himself to focus on the other prince and try to stand so he could help Rose up. He sat back down hard on the cold rock when his head swam again. "Um, I might need a hand. Little tired now." Maybe a nap would be a good idea.

* * *

Being healed by magic was an odd experience. Everything still hurt, but Rose suddenly found herself full of energy, like she had just been shot full of adrenaline. So close to death only moments ago, the princess felt her strength return to her aching body, and hearing Larry's voice loosened the tight knot in her chest, allowing her muscles to unclench and relax.

"Larry…" The sound was barely more than a whisper, but carried with it the great relief flooding her like a tidal wave. She sagged a little, the massive burden of worry finally leaving her.  _He was okay._

Though the same might not be true of Curly—it almost seemed like she'd taken the strength coursing through her system straight out of his own. When he failed to stand up, she coiled an arm under his shoulder and tried to help him to his feet; her kneecaps felt like butter and his weight threatened to crush her, but she did not bend. Once he was upright and somewhat stable, she detached herself from him and focused on the other two, which was still a hard feat to manage, seeing as her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. Had it not, she probably wouldn't have done what she did next, which was take one step in Larry's direction and wrap both arms around his neck in a quick hug. Even though she was still wet from head to toe, her favourite jumper soaked and heavy with icy-cold water, which was of no small concern to her, for a brief moment it ceased to matter. She'd been afraid to even think the words while she was down in that grave, but she was just so happy that he was  _alive_. He looked a bit ragged, sure, but otherwise unhurt, and the sheer relief of that fact was almost staggering.

"You were wrong after all," Rose said weakly, smiling in his shoulder. "It wasn't the mole people." She didn't know why she said that. It  _really_  was not the time for it, but her mind was still fuzzy.

Her eyes travelled to Moe, and she let go of the French prince, taking a small step back. The first thought that took solid shape in her tired mind was that all three of them were here. But how? Why? How long was she in that grave? Just as she opened her mouth to ask, though, she got a better look at Moe, and everything else just sort of fell by the wayside. His body was tense, and something about the expression on his face made her move without thinking. Her hand rose, then froze in mid-air, as a voice in the back of her head reminded her that Moe did not react well to girl-proximity. Rose let her hand fall back to her side.

"Are any of you hurt?" she asked softly, and though the question wasn't aimed at anyone in particular, her eyes remained fixed on Moe. The thought that Odile might hurt Larry saddened her, but the thought of her messing with Moe  _enraged_ her. She wasn't sure why. Moe was so much bigger and stronger than she was, but he just invoked some irrational protective instinct in her.

Her eyes turned to Larry again, regaining a bit of their spark. "What happened after we got separated? Did you see her? Did you speak to her? Did she do anything to you? I was so worried she might—… Just start from the beginning."

* * *

Was he alright?

**Was he?**

Nostrils flaring, his adam's apple bobbing along with a large gulp, a deep, worried frown settling on his brow, the Djinn gave his best bud a small shake of his head. Moe wanted to elaborate but then did not. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on and already that fucking voice/virus/evil piece-of-shit entity in his head was causing a glitch in his response output;  ** _What the fuck was Larry trying to say? I just saved his fucking worthless ass when I should have just left him there to die!_**

_Fuck! No. Not I. Not **me**! _ Moe retreated further into the shadows of the cave wall, his arms pulling tight around his torso. If he had a hat or longer hair, Moses would duck behind the cover and shield himself from watching eyes. Though his friends were the ones in danger... of him, he also didn't want them to see, to know that there was something seriously wrong. He could fight this. He could win. He wrote his own code, he could and would purge his systems of whatever the fuck this dark paranoid shit was.  **Before**  his friends saw because... because what if it wasn't a virus? What if it was him? What if it was his base code that was messed up?

He was already messed up, originally, wasn't he? His reclusiveness. His utter lack of social skills. His stutter. Goofy legs. Big feet. Clumsy worthlessness. What if this dark, evil bastard in his head wasn't some viral invasion? What if he hadn't been hacked? What if this was an Error? What if it was who  **he**  was? A line in his coding, a line of  **bad**  code. Or worse. What if his whole coding was bad?

Moe was so consumed with his darkening internal troubles that he'd nearly missed Larry's other question and Curly's physical weakening. But even as he noticed them, he dismissed them, a response that left Moe struggling with whether it was himself or something else that was finding his friends' problems inconsequential; what and who, which part of him or not thought his issues were more important.

So was he obsessed with his troubles, nothing else mattered. At least this was the case until he caught a flicker, a spectre moving toward him within his periphery. But a glance up told him what he was seeing wasn't some kind of spirit or ghost closing in on him, but Rose.  _Rose!_

Immediately his eyes scanned her person, checking for injury. From toes to legs, hips, waist, fingers, arms, shoulders, neck, hair, face. Face; mouth, nose, lips, eyes. Lips, eyes. Lips, eyes. Hand. Her hand reaching out. Reaching out to him. For him. Looking into her eyes and seeing her.  _Rose._ Alive and bright, almost looking flushed with fever.

Moe felt his body loosen infinitesimally, the tightness that wrapped his bones, that carved his muscles into thick, defined cords, slacken minutely with the urge to reach out for that hand that reached out for him. In a stretch of a minute, Moses North didn't care about dark voices in his head or his confusing reaction toward his friends. In that stretch of a minute the negative tension relaxed from him because Rose was there and she was okay. She was there and looking at him, reaching for him. And he could almost let go and reach back.

But then the minute was over and her hand dropped. Her hand dropped and the tension in him returned with a persistent pounding in his head and an aching pain in his chest that throbbed with disappointment. But that was stupid. So what if she didn't actually touch him, it wasn't like he would have known what to do if she had. And him touch her? Hug her? Pull her into his arms and...  _Ha! Right._ He wasn't Curly, who could hold her easily, as he did with everyone else, or Larry with his awkward charm and gentle (girly) fingers that lulled some girls into contentment. No. He was Moe; big, floppy, clutzy, stuttering, awkward Moe who practically pissed himself when a girl looked his way, let alone came into physical contact with him.

The muscles in his arms tightened once again, flexing in an effort to hold against himself even more firmly than they had initially, and the flesh of his face reddened, catching on fire under Rose's scrutiny. All he could manage in response to her question, knowing she was noticing something off about him—and possibly taking note of his patheticness—was a smile, that was mostly a grimace, and a small shake of his head before he lowered his gaze to his clown-sized feet. And to think he had been pissed that she hadn't noticed him before. Why? What for, when he was a pitiable jackass.

Moses looked up from his tanless toes to see Rose's attention turn to Larry and fought to hold back a small smile that was quickly building into laugh. Okay so Moe  _was_  pathetic as hell but  **Larry?** There was  **no way** Moses wanted to be the Elemental right at that moment. It had not been the least bit funny when Rose was in danger, but now that she was out and safe, alive and walking around, it was difficult not to laugh and find a wicked, karmic sort of amusement at his friend's current predicament. Nope. There was no way he wanted to be the guy telling Rose that he'd been trying to get it on with her evil twin double thing.

Moe coughed to cover an escaped laugh and ducked his head. He couldn't help it. All he could hear in his head were the many ways this was not going to play out well for his buddy.  ** _Well, yeah um, Rose, while you were practically dying in the hole, I was um... yeah, um, trying to bang your twin. But, no, no. I didn't know she wasn't you. I mean .. um... yes, I was trying to get in your pants. But um... uh. What? No, no, don't kill me, Rose. No! I'm not a pervert! I didn't know! She tricked me... or something. No, I swear I'm. Not. A. Pervert!_**

_Definitely a perve._ Larry was a deadman talking.

* * *

Curly was in need of an energy drink or a long nap; Moe was being quiet and unsettlingly distant; Rose referenced mole people and almost in the same breath asked him what happened while she and he were separated. All in all, Larry thought they might have a better chance at making it out of the catacombs if no one talked from that moment on.

Of course, as he was contemplating how to answer Rose, he was revisiting his  _very_  regrettable actions and blushing deeply. So deeply that his neck was burning and he might give Moe a run for his money in the Reddest Face Ever category. How could he possibly say anything that happened between himself and the doppelganger aloud? How could he list off what happened to the only three people he'd ever considered friends?

"Well... interestingly enough... I was with... you, Rose." Cryptic answer? Check. Internally hearing the sounds of his brain sounding the mayday alarms? Check. Larry continued, "Or... at least, she looked just like you. When she came from the direction you disappeared, she didn't act like you, but... I was so panicked, I couldn't leave the fake you. She took me to a lift, in the opposite direction she'd come in. I had my suspicions she wasn't you, but it still could have been your body. It wouldn't be the first time you were possessed tonight. So, I get in the lift..."

And what? Made out with what could have been Rose's body? Got semi-nude with the fake Rose? Contemplated having sex with the doppelganger? How did he want to say that? Why would he ever say that?

Curly still needed help, but Larry was only healed enough for his own weight. He couldn't help his friend. Moe, however, was highly capable of pulling their friend up by his bootstraps and marching him back to the light of day. Besides, that "cough" wasn't fooling the Stooge. "Can you help Curly, Moe? I think the faster we get out of this room, the better."

Larry grabbed his crutches from the floor and hobbled toward the door. He'd lead the charge out of there and answer questions where he didn't have enough light to see the disappointment or other expressions on Rose's face. " _Allez_ ," Larry coaxed, "Let's move."

He really didn't want to finish that story.

* * *

Somehow, someway, with some near miraculous moment of strength (or more likely determination, aka, stubbornness), Rose had managed to help Curran to his feet. That he would stay that way, however, seemed unlikely. Everything he had been doing over the last twenty-four-plus hours was catching up to him all at once, from Friday's full course of classes to being up all night worrying about his friends, to the past couple of hours and the intensive healing he had been doing. It was much more than he should have attempted, but it was only now, after-the-fact, that he could recognize the idiocy of using his gift as he had. He knew better than anyone his own limitations. Now he had to pay for pushing himself too far.

The dizziness almost took him down when Rose moved away from him, but through sheer force of will (and some dipping into his own magic for a very temporary boost), Curly managed to stay standing. Trying to get to the wall to give himself some support was looking awfully tempting when Larry asked Moe to help him and the prince realized his friend was actually a hell of a lot closer than any of the walls of the dark chamber, even if he was farther away than Rose or Larry. Better to lean on the one of them that wasn't so sleep-deprived and injured/recovering.

Forcing his legs to hold steady, Curly walked slowly over to stand beside Moe, one hand coming up to grip the taller teen's shoulder while he took deep breaths to ward off his own exhaustion. "Yeah, let's get out of here." They should probably find the fake-Rose as soon as possible and incapacitate her before she could do more damage to Rose's life than nearly fucking Larry had done. "Shoot her with Moe's gun."

Curly wasn't entirely sure he had expressed all of his thoughts in words, but given the circumstances, surely his friends could make sense of any jumps his conversation had taken?

* * *

Despite the smile Moe gave her, Rose remained unconvinced and thought to herself that he looked rather like he had a stomachache. When his gaze dropped to his feet, she also saw that he was barefoot, and as Curly staggered in his friend's direction, Rose noticed a bruise starting to form on the healer's forehead. She turned to Larry again, not even sure which question to ask first, but he was picking up crutches off the ground.  _ **Crutches!**_

Panic, sharp and piercing, surged through her at what their mere existence implied. "What? Larry, wait a second!" She glanced in Moe's direction and gave him a small nod, trusting him to take care of the exhausted healer, then ran up to Larry and blocked his way, hands held out to stop him. " _Wait!_  Why are you in crutches? Why is Curly hurt, why doesn't Moe have shoes on,  _what happened_? I couldn't tell time at all down in that grave, how long were we separated? If you're trying to spare me some gory details, now is really not the time for it! This woman is a real threat to my family, to my country, to the three of you, too, and I need to know what she did to you, so  _tell me_!" Her hands fell down to her sides, and Rose took a step back, collecting herself and adding more calmly, "The truth, please. All of it. I'm not a little girl, I don't need to be spared the details."

Did he think she couldn't handle a bit of violence? Her imagination immediately spiralled, painting images of a fierce struggle in which the boys barely made it out with their lives. But if they fought her, if she somehow hurt them, Rose needed to know.

* * *

When Curly slow-shuffled over to him, looking worse with every step he took, Moe's focus shifted for a moment to his brother, though not completely leaving Rose... and the very screwed Larry. Moses fit his arm under and around Curly's pits and back, giving himself as a crutch to his best friend. But even as he was securing Curran, the Djinn's focus returned to the other two, not liking that Rose was freaking out and getting worried all over again. He wanted to tell her not to worry but couldn't get the words past his pinched lips, still having issues voluntarily talking to Rose, especially with the weirdness going on with the momentarily silent entity within him.

Moe nodded in agreement with Curly. They needed to get out of there; all of them were messed up and being in the underground wasn't doing any of them any favors. Hefting his best friend up against his side, Moses pulled the gifted gun from out of the back of his sweatpants. Looking between the two, it wasn't hard to figure who was in better shape to shoot the gun, but when he held the gun out to Rose, a blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks. He had brought the gun she had given him. And he'd tinkered with it. That she would see all this and know made him bashful. "Uh." He cleared his throat, color deepening. "Jus-just point and shoo-ttt." Glump. "It's-it ki-kicks."

Moe couldn't help the stutter. He was nervous about his gun, about what she would think about it. They had talked—sort of—about his fascination with magitech, about how he liked to take everyday, mundane things and try to incorporate magic into them to make them more efficient and more user friendly for those who don't have that kind of magic for themselves. But talking—sort of—about it and having her actually see his work, with a gift she had given him, were two very different things.

So he chickened out and looked away.

To Larry. And did the totally un-bro thing by shifting the focus right back to him. "We'll head up so you can... tell her what happened." It was still kind of funny but Moe couldn't laugh. He knew he was being a bitch, even as he turned back around and started leading Curly out of the chamber.

* * *

Larry couldn't go anyplace with those questions hanging in the air. Rose had stopped him in his tracks. But, for just a second, it seemed like Moe could have become the center of attention. Of course, that hope was dashed violently when Moe chucked Larry under the bus that was telling Rose what she wanted to know.

He watched his two best friends hobble out of the room while his stomach turned itself into knots in his gut. He swallowed, surreptitious in the way his head slowly turned as he felt unable to meet Rose's eyes. "I'm... ashamed. But, you're right."

He started answering chronologically, starting with what happened when he left with the fake Rose. His voice went quiet as he dared to be as he spoke about what happened in the lift. They were slow sentences, and his heart was pounding in his ears as he tried to explain. Tried to relate how it got out of hand. Finally, he got to the part where he decided to break his leg and his voice was a little louder again.

"So, Curly healed my leg and Moe freaked out, thinking he wasn't acting like himself, and they had a little tiff and... Well, we got me on crutches and I led them down here and... you were blue and dying and I wished that I could switch places with you, and it worked, and Curly healed you, and he's  _wiped_ , and you know the rest." Larry swallowed hard again, almost out of breath from the run-on explanation. "And I'm sorry I wasn't back sooner for you, Rose. We should get going, though."

* * *

When Moe handed her the gun, Rose was temporarily distracted.

"Is that...?" she started, gently taking a hold of the grip. A slight smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. The gun she'd bought for him. Had he managed to get it to work? She'd thought the antique was too fragile to actually be used, but if Moe had modified it... Then the implications of this gesture caught up with her. He was giving her the gun to shoot... because he thought there might be something dangerous to shoot  ** _at_**. Rose's attention snapped back to Larry.

As he told his tale, Rose just listened silently, a hurricane of emotions swirling inside her. At the end, all she managed was a very quiet, "Oh." Beat. "S-so… you knew, but you still…"

The words died in her throat.

_You still went off with her. I was dying in a grave, going out of my mind with worry for you, and you didn't even spare a passing thought about me? Would you have even come for me at all if the others hadn't interrupted you? Why, why, why did you leave me? Do I truly mean so little to you?… I thought…_

The crushing sense of betrayal soon became anger. For a second, Rose wanted to scream all of this in his face, make him feel guilty, hurt him like he'd hurt her, but the impulse passed just as swiftly as it came. She couldn't lash out on Larry like that, partly because it wasn't fair to blame him for something that she herself had gotten him into, and partly because… she was afraid. No matter how she felt, Rose was acutely aware that if she let out her frustrations he might decide to resent her, and she couldn't take that risk. He came down here to help her after all, what right did she have to complain? What right did she have to demand that he risked his neck for her, that he ought to do anything for her at all? He wasn't obligated to. He didn't have to come down to the catacombs in the first place, or help her, or stick with her, or even speak to her at all. He didn't have to be her friend. He didn't have to take it if she yelled at him, and the thought that he might say so terrified her. What if he got mad at her? What if he decided their friendship wasn't worth the headache? She couldn't lose him, not only because of how much that alone would hurt, but because then she would lose Moe and Curly, too. She would lose everything.

Rose looked down so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. "I see," she said, barely above a whisper.

What else was there to say? She would get angry, but it would push Larry away. She would cry, but it freak Moe out. She had no other option but to keep it all down, conduct herself with poise as best she could and hide the giant, gaping wound in her heart.

Rose turned around. "You're right," she said, her voice quiet, but steady. "We should go."

She slowly walked towards the exit after Moe and Curly, feeling … empty. Words, his words, echoed in her ears in an endless loop with each step:

_You aren't alone in this._

_I believe in you._

_Together._

Words. Just pretty, meaningless sounds, nothing more. All she could do now was curse her own self for being so naïve, for blindly believing him. How had she deluded herself into thinking he felt the same way about her? She didn't mean anything to him. She didn't mean anything to anybody.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, a sudden gust of wind snapped her out of her thoughts and back into the present as a swirl of feathers appeared on her right and a hand reached to grab her by the hair, yanking her roughly to the side. Rose let out a painful yelp and dropped the gun in her surprise, letting it fall to the floor as she was pulled a few steps into the tunnel.

"So it was you three that broke my wards," she heard her own voice say and turned enough to see who was holding her – Odile, still wearing her face. The witch had clearly been up in her room, and was sporting one of her black blouses, hair pulled up in a messy bun. Her eyes turned to Rose, and the princess felt like she was staring at a very haughty, twisted mirror. "Took a look around your dorm, little duck. You really need to update your wardrobe, what are you, twelve? You should show some more skin every now and then." Then she turned her attention back to the Stooges. "Here is how we're going to play this, boys," Odile continued. "You tree are going to march your interfering little butts up to your dormitories and get a good night sleep, and then you will never speak to anyone about this. There is no need for any of you to get hurt. If you do as I say like good little boys, I'll let you go on with your lives as if you've never met me. Disobey me… and you will share her fate." A twist of her wrist, and the shiny dagger was in her hand again, the pointy end millimetres away from Rose's throat.

Rose looked to her friends… then down at the ground, her eyes glassy. She didn't have any fight left in her.

"Just go," she said dully, her voice devoid of any emotion. "She won't hurt you if you don't get in her way."

* * *

Moses was an ass. An asshole. He was the shit that came out of the asshole. He was the ... more disturbing, graphic, puke worthy thing that was worse than the shit that came out of the asshole. He was all of it. He was the lowest of the low. Why? Because he left Larry, his best buddy, his brother-from-another-mother-and-father-but-practically-blood-without-the-actual-blood brother out to dry. He threw his BFF under the bus, left him to the wolves. Pick an idiom!  _Fuck._ "I suck," he grumbled to himself, to Curly, to no one.

If there was any moment in the creepy fucked up catacombs that Moe wished he could blame his actions on that malevolent entity screwing with his code, it was right when he screwed Larry over to save himself. But not even a Djinn like himself could make it so. That action right then, that moment he had freaked out about Rose's reaction to the gun and intentionally turned the focus back to his elemental friend, that was **all** Moses North. Not because it was going to happen anyway—Rose wouldn't have let it go—and Moe thought ripping off the band aid would be the best course. Not because he thought it was karma and Larry-pervert deserved to tell Rose what he'd been doing while she was trapped and drowning. Not even because Moe was a cruel bastard. All of those sounded so much better, no matter how wrong, than his actual reason; he was a chicken.

Though Rose was his friend, now, and he could talk to her, sort of, handing over the gun she gave to him freaked him out. Rose wasn't like girls who wigged him out in general. She was different to him, meant more, had a personal space in his chest that made his heart beat a little more intensely and filled him with very strong, meaningful feelings. She was his friend. And he wasn't dumb enough to think her being his friend was the same as being friends with Curly and Larry. It wasn't. Not only did he know them for much longer, and for so that the two were in essence his brothers, but they were also guys, males, dual-brained imbeciles who ran around making fools of themselves... Just. Like. Him.

Rose was not. She was girl. Girl  **and**  friend. And new. She wasn't Moe's first girl-and-friend. But in the short time that she had been so to him, Moe felt that relationship with her so acutely.

And it freaked him the fuck out.

He knew the darker stuff earlier, the venomous thoughts about his best friends were because of the thing inside of him, but the anger at them leaving her, the fear for her safety, the desire to save her, the possessive responsibility for her was all him. And Moses didn't understand it all. He didn't know why or how or what the fuck to do about it. And so, he cut his friend down and left him to the horde-not that Rose was a horde of zombies or wolves or even a bus; she was small and petite and beautiful and kind.  _And my **friend**. _ "Shit."

Moses continued down his confusing train of thought even as he made slow progress down the tunnel with Curly. His best friend, who was so burned out from actually saving Rose that he needed Moe as a crutch just to move. And Moe had hit him, threatened him, doubted him.

Moe was more than an ass and the shit and all of that gross crap. He was worse.

Guilt pushed heavy down of the Djinn's shoulders, keeping him so absorbed in himself and his issues that he missed the shadow in the dark, the evil trickster, the wicked doppelganger until it was too late.

Moses jerked around at the scream, wrenching his weakened friend at his side, to see Rose pulling ... Rose's hair. It took him a second, or a split of one, to push through the bizarre scene before him and accept the pertinent truth; evil-Rose bitch twin was back. And he was too far away. In his fear and guilt, Moe had pulled ahead of Rose and Larry. He hadn't wanted to hear the recount or the reaction in the after. He just wanted to get out of the tunnels, back onto school level and forget his failings. And for that, Rose, Larry and the wicked witch were enough feet away that Moe knew he wouldn't be able to cover before Evil-twin harmed Rose.

The hope for the gun was non-existent, as it was the second thing Moses looked for. The antique pistol lay only a couple feet from either friend, but it might as well have been miles for all that Rose with her abductor and Larry with his injured leg could get to it. Somewhere in his mind he took note to attach a Return spell to the tech for just such a situation as this so he could simply call to the thing, have it appear in his hand so he could shoot the bitch down. But that couldn't help them at the moment, not in this moment. So shoving that to the side, Moe looked for some other solution. Like a wish.

Fuck. He'd already performed some shady shit today, getting Larry and Rose to switch places, and he didn't even know what the cost was yet or how bad it would be. But he couldn't help thinking about it. Could Larry or Curly wish and he grant it before Evil-Rose hurt Good-Rose? Did Evil-Rose know about what he could do? She said she'd been up to Rose's room, but he didn't think there would be anything about him there. About Curly or Larry? Yeah, but not him. Moses ignored how he felt about that and flicked his eyes at Larry before his gaze went back to Rose. That was when he felt it; a solid punch to his gut. All from the look he saw in her eyes.

Pain, hurt, resignation.

His fists tightened—when had he let go of Curly?—his muscles strained. A fire lit in his eyes and that dark voice in his head laughed. "No."

* * *

Larry couldn't tell what Rose was thinking. He wondered if it was just too awkward for her—assumed, really, because she looked down, wouldn't meet his eyes—and his shame redoubled. He could feel Rose's attitude toward him change, like an animal and barometric pressure. This had been what he was afraid of when he realized he had to tell Rose what had happened. If he was her, he wouldn't want to talk about it either, so when she agreed to go, he didn't debate.

He left the room before her, crutch clunking on the stone floor. Being only a few steps ahead of Rose, he felt the rush of wind as well and turned just in time to see the pair of Roses. The gun fell out of the real Rose's hand and Larry's eyes went wide at the sudden turn of events.

Though he listened, Larry never looked in the other Rose's eyes. He kept his sight on Rose and Rose alone. As the dagger appeared at her throat, Larry thought she looked... resigned? And sad, so sad. Surely, even if with all that had happened that evening, Rose trusted that the three of them wouldn't leave her? But he had left her, and maybe that was what caused her to say they should go. Larry wouldn't let the doppelganger take Rose, no matter the situation, and he thought Curly and Moe wouldn't either. So, when Moe's voice was clear and strong as he said "No", Larry knew he wasn't alone.

He wasn't about to leave Rose again.

The gun had skittered close enough to Larry that he judged it possible for him to dive on it and possibly beat the doppelganger to any action. Loudly, Larry yelled "Catch!" and chucked the crutch as solely at the evil Rose as he could. His knees hit the floor first and he pushed forward and scrambled for the gun, aiming for the Rose dressed in black when he had it in his hands.

* * *

Rose felt a sharp pull on the back of her head as Odile yanked her between herself and Larry to absorb the impact of the crutches, which smacked painfully into the princess' abdomen.

Odile's laugh echoed behind her. " _A gun?_ You think this piece of junk will be enough to scare me? You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

In the next instant Rose was shoved roughly into a wall as another gust of feathers swirled around Odile, and suddenly the sorceress was gone, replaced by an enormous lion. Its incredible mass was enough to fill almost the entire tunnel, its claws bigger than kitchen knives, its powerful paws the size of manhole covers. It roared, and the sound reverberated through the stone, echoing through the stale air. Then, with one swift, overwhelming blow, it slammed its paw into Larry's chest and knocked him back, pinning him to the ground.

The animal's head morphed, regaining some of its human features. Its eyes turned from yellow to brown, taking on a more almond shape, hair retreated from its face, and its snout became a human mouth, still full of razor-sharp teeth.

"You little cockroaches," Odile growled. "You think three teenagers have what it takes to defeat me? I will squash you like the bugs you are without even breaking a sweat." Massive muscles moved under her fur as she applied more pressure onto the trapped prince. Her claws screeched against the floor.

"Stop!"

Before Rose knew what she was doing, she stood in front of Odile, back turned to Curly and Moe, her hands held out in front of her in a pacifying gesture. "Don't hurt him."

The monster's eyes flicked to her. "Too late for mercy now, little duck. I gave them an out, twice. Now they die."

Panic rose in the princess' chest and she blurted out, "But you need them!" Her brain was working at full speed, desperation clawing up inside her. "You lured me down here because you don't want the Fairly Godmother to know you're here. That's why you left me alive, because you don't really need to kill me; you just need to take my place so you can bypass Andover and Oloria's defences. But if you kill them, it draws attention; people will ask questions, there will be an investigation, and you  _will_ be questioned about their disappearance if you're wearing my face. This will create a lot of trouble for you. Maybe it would even prompt the Fairy Godmother to have a word with you." A growl rumbled low in the lion's throat. Rose took that as a positive sigh. "But... it doesn't have to. Let them go and... and I'll stay down here. As long as you have me, they won't say anything about this. You can pass yourself as me a lot more easily if they're there to back up your stories."

"I don't need them," Odile snarled, but Rose could see a bit of hesitation in her eyes and latched on to that, desperately trying to appeal to the woman's sense of logic.

"You do need them. Alive. And unhurt. If you harm Larry, Moe and Curly will never go along with it. Never ever, because he is their best friend, and they won't ever let you get away with it if you do anything to him. But if you let him go... if you have a hostage... they will do it. All three of them. As long as you have an innocent person down here, under the threat of death, they'll do anything they can to guarantee their safety. My safety. I'll stay. Please." Rose had never begged for anything in her entire life. But for this, she would if she had to. "Please. Let them go."

For a long second the two of them locked eyes, and Rose silently prayed Odile would see reason. There was no fault in her logic. She  _had_ to see that.

The paw pressing Larry to the ground eased up, and the sorceress' lips stretched into a smirk. "You know, you would have made for an excellent sidekick. Too bad I want to puke every time I look at you." Her head inclined to the left. "In you go, then."

Rose turned without question and walked towards the chamber she had escaped only minutes ago. At the entrance, she stopped and half-turned to the two boys further down the tunnel. "I'm sorry." She looked forward again and took a step inside.

The door slammed shut after her, blowing wet blonde tresses over her shoulders. Only then, when she was alone and couldn't upset anyone, did Rose finally break down. Her knees gave up and she sank to the floor, tears sliding down her face. Covering her mouth to muffle the sound, she sobbed on the cold, stone floor, knowing she had sealed her own fate, but that if she were given the choice, she would do so again.

"Well then." Another swirl of feathers, and Odile took on Rose's form once again. "That was easy. Now boys, in case you get the bright idea to try any more heroics, do keep in mind that I can fill that entire chamber with water with a snap of my fingers, and your precious little duckling will drown. Shall we head up? You all look like you could use a nap."

* * *

Curly's mind was slow to process the change in their circumstances, though quick to realize that, physically, there was pretty much absolutely  _nothing_ he could do about it. He was too drained from two complex healings on no sleep to be able to dive for the gun, or rush the fake Rose, or any of the myriad other stupid ideas that crossed his mind.

For a moment when Larry got his hands on the gun, he thought they might be okay, but then the doppelganger was no longer a doppelganger and instead had Larry—and the gun—pinned beneath her huge paw.

As Rose convinced the sphinx not to kill them all, an idea took shape in the healer's mind. He had only to wait for Rose to get clear and the lion to take her shape again to act.

"Fuck that," Curran said, anger making his voice and expression hard, even as he leaned against the wall for support. "Moe, I wish you had your gun." 


	16. Chapter 16

If they had been in a movie Moses would have lunged across the distance and tackled the monster beast. And while he wrestled, Larry would have recovered his feet, gun in hand, and while the two took down the evil twin turned talking lion, Curly would have spirited Rose out of the way. They would win, the evil bitch would be dead and there would be a happily ever after.

Sounded awesome. Moe was a badass, and yeah... They weren't in a movie. Instead of leaping into action, Moses froze. Despite all the malevolent wanting to sacrifice his best friends to have Rose all for himself just moments ago, seeing the extra large tawny beast pinning his best buddy to the ground shocked the djinn with enough fear to keep him immobile and nearly silence the darker suggestions in his head. This was Larry. Even the virus in his base code felt a perverted possessive streak with regards to who had the right to hurt his friend; no one but Moe, that was who. No way was he going to let the bitch crush his friend.

But even as Moses snapped out of his stillness and started to edge toward the evil twin/monster cat, he couldn't help but marvel at Larry's very bad luck. Flying monkeys, big tarantulas and now an overly large lioness. Seriously, the guy was always getting bested by the beasties.

Such thoughts, though, were pushed aside when Rose started talking, pleading, fucking negotiating with the Evil Twin cat. At first, Moe tried to give Rose a hard stare, using his non-existent but-would-have-been-totally-cool-to-have-at-the-moment telepathy powers to convey how much she really needed to stop trying to give herself away. And when that didn't work, he gave his thoughts sound. "No, Rose. Don't give her what she wants." And  _ **like hell**_  he'd be giving evil fake Rose any credibility. No fucking way.

Moses started moving in a rush toward Rose and the chamber, but was blocked by the lion and his friend. "Rose!" His yell/plea/demand/apology echoed, bouncing off the rocks as the slab shut behind her. For the umpteenth time, it felt like, he'd lost her again.

When Moe looked at the changed-from-lion-to-Fake Rose, he was practically vibrating. He barely allowed Curly to finish his wish before he accepted and held the gun in his hand. Without hesitation, the djinn pulled the trigger. The loud explosion resounded as a green translucent magic-net flew from the barrel to wrap and trap the evil bitch and her magic. Her first mistake was taking Rose. Her second was thinking they were just little boys. "Fry."

* * *

Had the lion not managed to trap the gun between Larry's chest and the ginormous paw it used to pin him to the floor, he would have pulled the trigger from underneath. As it was, the moment the lion appeared in place of fake-Rose, Larry knew he was—for lack of a better word— _fucked_. Below the paw, he wasn't focused on what the human-face said whilst the lion paw was on his chest, pushing down when it suited his attacker. In the time it took for Rose to make a deal with her doppelganger, Larry came to know a singular hatred for the witch who had caused all this—this misadventure in the Catacombs. The prince started to vow to himself that if he made it out alive, he would never venture so far down without some sort of plant to fight with.

And then, all at once, the pressure was gone. Fake-Rose was above him, though he could barely see her past the kaleidoscope of light behind his eyes. Larry might have rolled to his feet if it didn't feel like his lungs were still pinned to the floor trying to get all the oxygen they'd missed.

Like the roll of thunder, the gun went off in the tunnel, and Larry had plenty enough vision to see the net hit fake-Rose in the most satisfying of catches he'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing. The green allowed her no escape, and for the first fraction of a second, she must not have felt her doom as it began to bleed her of her magic. Upon her realization, she started to screech like some sort of animal.

_**"NO!"**_  she cried over and over again, pulling at the net as best she could. " _NO! I WON!_ I HAD  _HER_! I HAD  _YOU_!"

She no longer looked like Rose. Where Rose was a blonde teen, the woman was brunette. Larry watched on his elbows from the floor as she was sapped of all energy and collapsed into a heap of cheap-parlor-trick-beauty and ugly ill-advised revenge. She continued to mutter under her breath as if any of the three boys in the tunnel could hear her or care.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, there wasn't a sadistic bone in Curran's body. Someone else in distress went straight to wherever empathy came from and hit hard. But as the evil witch screamed and writhed within the magical net from Moe's gun, what Curly felt first and foremost was a sort of vindication, a sense that this was right, that this was what the doppelganger deserved.

It still managed to kind of turn his stomach, though.

When the woman settled down into muttering, her magic apparently drained, Curly pulled his eyes away to look at Moe, stepping toward his friend and using him as a crutch once more. "Any idea what to do with her now?" The healer had some idea that Rose's parents would not be as calm about the situation as would any of the Three Stooges' parents. With the impression she'd given him about them, Curly was more inclined to think they would pull her straight out of Andover and lock her up in a tower. For her own protection, of course. Which meant they would need to cover this little misadventure up, rather than handing it over to the 'adults' to deal with.

A very small part of him almost wanted to drop the woman into the same hole where she had left Rose. Almost. The rest of him was thinking that he was way too tired to deal with this shit.

* * *

_Yes._  The creepy, malicious voice hissed as Moses looked on, watching the witch writhe. It/ **he/Moe**  enjoyed watching the woman suffer. He- **it** -liked the sound of her screams. And why not? She deserved it. Hell, she deserved worse. With every bit of magic the web pulled from Evil-not-so-Rose-twin, the green hue brightened, pulsed, strengthened and Moses knew her energy was getting zapped too. He knew she was feeling drained in the physical sense. It was the ultimate trap; no matter how much power one had or threw at it, the net would not falter, it only got stronger. This witch-with-a-capital-B was caught and she would stay that was, stay there, underneath the school, in the dank and dark until someone let her out. Until  _he_  let her out.

Oh house the malevolent creature inside him loved to have that kind of power. Its eagerness fueled the cruelty of the Djinn's thoughts.

_It should hurt. She deserves it. She should be in pain. She should suffer the way we did._ Moe thought of his friends' sufferings. He thought of the sharp, snapping, throbbing pain of Larry's broken leg. He thought of the delirium, the cold, the fear and loneliness that Rose had felt. He thought of the emptiness, the weariness that currently plagued Curly. He  _felt_ his own rage and hatred burning inside of him. And he wanted her to feel  **all** of it.

_Yes! She should suffer. Make her suffer. Make it hurt._

Moe was completely focused on the muttering creature before him, fantasizing about making her whimper, making her cry. The voice relished in the pain and Moses felt the glory in it. Yes! This was what it wanted. Power. Pain. Suffering!

So invested was he in his delusion that Moses did not notice anything around him until the heavy hand of the healer crashed down onto his arm. The touch, though light, was so adverse to his reverie that it served to smack him back into reality. The sudden and absolute alteration to his actuality was so jarring, it took the Djinn a moment to answer his best friend. When he heard the voice again, telling him to leave the witch there, to let her starve and die in the dark, Moe heard the voice for its separate self and  **not him**. So when his cracked voice sounded, his reply was not what echoed in his head. "Give her to the Fairy Godmother." He gulped, visibly shaken even as he solidly took Curly's weight. "She'll know what to do with her." From some of Moe's research—aka hacking—he knew there were places set up for magical offenders, places akin to human jails for weak and minor offenders. Then there were also the individual, specialized prisons created and buried, cast out, or shipped, depending on the offender, for the worst of the worst.

Yeah. The Fairy Godmother could handle the witch. She wasn't going anywhere and Moe just wanted to get out of the catacombs. He had to figure out how to get the virus/entity/evil son-of-a-witch out of him and he was certain being under the school had something to do with it.

* * *

Larry pulled himself onto his feet and gingerly hobbled to his thrown crutch—he needed to apologize for hitting Rose—and then more steadily to the door Rose had entered.

She was on the floor, which was alarming until he realized that she was weeping. "Rose," Larry said gently, moving to where she was and bending to touch her shoulder, "Rose, it's over. She can't hurt any of use right now. We're all okay."

* * *

So absorbed was she in her own misery, that Rose didn't even hear the gun go off. The screams of the witch, however, made her stop crying for a second and turn around, her eyes scanning the door fruitlessly.  _What was that noise?_ Hope fluttered in her chest once more, wondering if maybe...

Then the door started opening, and the princess turned forward in panic, realising how she must look like right now. Steps echoed through the cold stone, and she tried her best to contain the sobs shaking her body, attempting to muffle them with her hand again. Rose heard Larry's voice and felt him reaching for her, which sent her flying to her feet.

No, no, no, no, they couldn't see her cry! She had to stop crying  _right now_ , because they wouldn't know  _what to do with her_ if she cried. Moe would completely fly off the handle at the sight of tears. Larry would see how weak she really was. And Curly had already seen her cry, as if that wasn't embarrassing enough. She had to stop crying.  _Stop crying, Rose. Stop! Right now!_

But she couldn't stop. So many feelings were swirling inside her, from the still-lingering sadness, fear and betrayal to new-found happiness, relief and gratitude. She could control one, maybe two of those things at the same time, but all at once? It felt like her heart was about to explode.

"I'm—I'm okay," she stammered, taking a step back. A hand shot up to cover her eyes. "I'll stop crying just—just g-give me a sec-cond."

Try as she might though, Rose couldn't stop herself from shaking violently, or the new tears from sliding down her cheeks even faster than before.  _Stop crying!_ she commanded herself again, her other hand forming a trembling fist.  _Stop it!_

If only her body would listen.

* * *

As Rose stood, Larry pulled his hand back and let it drop. Physically touching Rose after the night he had had was something he felt fully apprehensive about. Her tears, however, and how she shuddered with them, weren't something he could ignore. Wrapping an arm around Rose, he hugged her to his side. He didn't have the right words, he felt like, to comfort her verbally, so this was the best he could do.

It was a brief embrace, because he didn't feel like he  _should_ be touching her for any longer.

Going to the door, he gave her space, but said, "Please, let's get out of here."

* * *

It only lasted a few moments, but Larry's half-hug managed to trigger a swirl of intense, conflicting emotions in Rose. She wanted to pull him closer; she wanted to push him away. She wanted to cling to him; she wanted to never touch him again. It was all a mess, tangled, illogical, contradictory, and Rose didn't know what she was feeling anymore. In the end she didn't do anything either way, and when he left to let her regain a bit of composure, she let the shaking take its course. For Moe's sake most of all, she needed to get a grip. She couldn't allow herself to be the cause of another episode for him. He had freaked out just at the thought that she  _might_  start crying before, so he must not see her in this state.

The princess crouched to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to keep her body from shivering, all the while trying to take deep breaths and calm down.  _Why_ , she asked herself,  _Why do I feel this way?_ In truth, the answer was simple: she had had unreasonable expectations. But that was the thing about the Stooges – they made her feel unreasonable things.

Curly made her feel… safe. An utterly counterintuitive notion, seeing as he usually got her in situations that were very much of the un-safe persuasion. He could heal, that much was true, but he couldn't do more than anyone else to actually fight off a threat, not to mention that sometimes said threat was only in her head. And yet, irrationally, illogically, his presence was calming. Reassuring. Warm. It didn't make any sense at all.

What Moe made her feel was even more baffling. He was a head taller, almost twice as broad, and to top it all off, he had magic. He even took MMA and practiced a few sports. Clearly, he was very capable of looking after himself. And yet, he made her feel protective. It was almost funny to say outloud – the small defenceless princess wanting to protect and take care of an older boy twice her size. Yet she did. Ludicrous.

And Larry… Rose had never met anyone she grew to like as fast as the French prince. He was so much like her, and yet he was better in so many ways. He was smart, and well-read, and courageous, and he had been everywhere, knew things she could never learn from books, and he always had an answer for everything. The irrational feelings Larry evoked were all rooted in trust. He could have told her the grass in France was purple and should would have believed it. He could lead her down a pitch-black staircase and she'd follow. As she had tonight.

But all these feelings, these thoughts, they were all useless. They weren't logical. And, as her father often said, a ruler must be rational. Decisions ought to be based on proof, not instincts and fancies - if these things didn't make sense, she just had to get them out of her head. Reality was rooted in facts. And the fact here was that even if she wanted to believe it, if Larry said something, that didn't necessarily make it true. His words tonight, for example. Or at other times.

Right. This was the answer. If she didn't have expectations, there would be no such thing as disappointment or betrayal. If she didn't feel these silly, baseless emotions, it would be impossible to be hurt like this a second time. She needed to dispense with them at once.

Rose wiped the last of her tears and stood up. Deep breath. Exhale. Control. Poise. Dignity. Be logical. Don't let fancy mix with fact.

Having tried so hard to shed the princess shell, Rose found herself slipping back into it with surprising ease, but deemed it a proper course of action. As she had done so many times back home, she smoothed her face, straightened her posture and composed herself. Her flashlight was still rolling on the floor, next to the base of the angel statue Odile had crashed her into. Rose went over to where it was, bent down and retrieved it. Then she made her way to the door.

* * *

Larry looked at the witch from the doorway. He noticed that the net was glowing neon and the woman beneath it wasn't moving. He heard Moe's suggestion, and turned his gaze away from the figure on the floor for a second to look at his friends, thinking that Moe had the best idea, and at that precise moment there was a sound like the crack of thunder, and the woman was gone, the net's green glow fading away.

She'd disappeared, or maybe died. Who knew? Maybe the net had drained away all that was holding the hateful woman together. He really couldn't think these things through as he hobbled to the net and almost touched it, but thought better of it.

* * *

Rose walked over to the others, eyeing what remained of the net. She wasn't completely sure what had just happened, but the important thing was that they were all in one piece and that Odile was gone.

"Thank you all for what you did tonight," she said to the three of them. Her voice was quiet but even, formal in its tone. Her eyes were cast down so they would not see the redness in them, fixed upon the flashlight she held in both hands. "I apologise for the injuries you have sustained, and can only say that I am sorry for being naïve enough to fall into this trap. If it wasn't for you, I would be dead. Once again, thank you." Rose bent forward in a slight bow. This was all so familiar to her, the usual way she behaved back home, and yet it seemed somehow odd. For the first time ever, she started to see it, see the difference between the princess and the person. She hadn't thought that there was a distinction to be had before, but here it was. These were not her words. Those were the words of a princess.

Rose straightened up once again, but her eyes remained fixed on her hands. "Now, may we finally leave this place? Lingering down here seems unwise."

* * *

Staring at the spot where the doppelganger had been, Curly blinked once, twice, and said, "I guess that solves that." He didn't know how the woman had escaped, if that was what she had done, and he wasn't sure he cared. All it really meant to him was that they didn't have to deal with her. Part of him realized it also meant she could come back, but that part wasn't particularly loud at the moment.

In a moment, even that thought was silenced as Rose and Larry came out into the corridor again, replaced with relief.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to her as she came even with him and Moe. Unmindful of either of his two friends' boundaries, he pulled them into a threeway embrace. "We're so glad you're okay."

When he pulled back, Curly didn't let go of Rose as he gave her a goofy grin. "Let's never do this sort of thing again though. Unless we have back-up. Or at least there's no witch to commit general fuckery."

* * *

Moe was frowning, deeply, at the spot that had been previously occupied by the witch. It shouldn't have happened. The witch shouldn't have disappeared. There was plenty his net could do, but making the witch disappear all together was not one of them. And so, if the net did not make the witch disappear, then what... or who did?

The fact that Moses did not know the answer to that question left him very uneasy. An unease to put on top of the unease he was already experiencing in with everything prior. And, of course, being under the school, in the spooky, creepy, tunnels in general was stressful enough to the djinn.

_But nothing is supposed to be able to escape!_

Moe couldn't let it go. This was a conundrum and an obvious mistake on his part. He was the tinkerer. The hobbyist inventor. And while this was certainly a blow to his ego, this was not the worst part. The not knowing where the witch was or how she got out was definitely the most pertinent problem.

Moses just turned to share this crappy piece of information with Curly when Larry and Rose came out. Like all other times Rose was in his line of sight, every other thought went out to the way side while he focused completely on her. And his assessment? Something was off. While he expected her to be roughed up to some degree, as they all were, what he was seeing, wasn't that. She was stiff and angry?  _No, that's not right._

Moses tilted his head to get a better look at her. And when that didn't work, he bent at the waist, craning his neck to look under her lowered head and down-cast eyes. He was being particularly stubborn to get eye contact with her. Even as Curly hugged Rose and still leaned on him to stay on his feet, Moses remained as he was until his Rose looked at him. Despite everyone's urging to leave, despite his own similar desire, he wasn't going anywhere before he looked into Rose's eyes. After all the shit they'd been through, after everything he was still willing to give to keep her safe, Moe needed to see her.

* * *

Curly's hug was sudden, unexpected, and very, very uncomfortable. Rose didn't take well to unexpected violations of her physical boundaries, and the embrace made her stiffen awkwardly.

She could sense that Moe was trying to get a glimpse of her, but stubbornly kept her eyes cast down, avoiding his. The princess didn't know what he would see if he looked her in the eye. Maybe he would spot that emptiness, that coldness she had warned him about, and he would finally see it for himself, finally believe it when she said that there was nothing there, nothing but a dressed up doll on strings. A voice whispered in her ear that he  _ought_ to see it, that they all should, because it was the truth, because she truly was nothing more than a princess, but she just... couldn't. She couldn't let him know how weak and broken she really was, didn't want him to see this side of her.

No matter what she had told herself just a moment ago, the sad, sad truth was that... Rose liked having friends too much. She liked laughing. Talking. Feeling like someone saw something more in her, that someone  _liked_ her, liked her for who she was, not for the title attached to her name. Having someone to share an interest with, someone to understand, someone to make her smile. Even if it was just a taste, even if she mattered to them far, far less than they mattered to her, she wanted this, wanted it so much. Too much to let it go.

Strangely, it wasn't the hug that brought her out of this train of thought, but Curly's cussing.

By some sort of miracle, the princess mask suddenly slipped, and Rose scrunched up her nose in distaste, pouting. "Don't cuss," she huffed indignantly, completely forgetting about the calm, measured voice she used before. "Can you not act like a stable boy for five minutes?"

Then she remembered herself, slipping away from his grasp and taking a step back, even with Larry. Her eyes unwittingly fluttered to Moe for a split second, but she turned them to the ground immediately. "You know the catacombs best," she said to Larry, "Let's get out of here."

She walked beside him, lighting up the path as he hobbled on his crutches, saying nothing. There wasn't anything left to say. Not now, anyway.

* * *

Distress began in him like a slow creeping shadow to cover the moon and plunge what lived below into a deep night. Larry was exhausted and emotionally drained—still, the distress made a pit in his stomach—so Moe's near gymnastic attempt to look at Rose was simply bewildering. He wasn't sure what his friend was doing, but he knew that he was going. An entire night in the catacombs and everything that had stemmed from it happened to be enough, Larry thought, for his lifetime.

His one leg was aching, pain still present despite Curly's best efforts, but it wasn't what was making him ready to vomit. That was due in particular to the insidious worry that he had damaged his newest friendship beyond repair. Larry hadn't realized he was leading the charge, hoping that there was another lift in the same spot where Rose's doppelganger had led him before. When he was young, and his mother had seen a storm of thought gripping her son, she had taught him the first poem she had ever memorized and told him to recite it when he felt overwhelmed. It would be a distraction she said.

Larry wasn't paying total attention as he hobbled across the corridor. He'd already started a mental recitation. It went:

" _Le pré est vénéneux mais joli en automne_  
Les vaches y paissant  
Lentement s'empoisonnent"

He'd reached the same place as he had with the Fake Rose, where he had made the fatal mistake that might have killed his friendship with the Real Rose. Just ten feet down, there was another lift. His relief was immense that they would be able to leave the confines of the damp, dark, entombing bowels of what was below the school. He kept on with the poem:

_"Le colchique couleur de cerne et de lilas_  
Y fleurit tes yeux sont comme cette fleur-la  
Violâtres comme leur cerne et comme cet automne  
Et ma vie pour tes yeux lentement s'empoisonne"

Larry waited for Moe, Curly, and the genuine Rose Waltz, Princess of Oloria, to pile into the lift and attempted to start it the same way the doppelganger had.  _Les enfants de l'école viennent avec fracas_ , he thought as he pressed the wall as Rose's abductor had,  _Vêtus de hoquetons et jouant de_ _l'harmonica_... His hoping paid off, as the lift began to move on a steady track up. They'd gotten lucky with that. He couldn't look around at his friends' faces, so he tilted his head back into the wall behind him and let thoughts alternate.  _Ils cueillent les colchiques qui sont comme des mères_ — whoever the witch was to Rose, she wouldn't be a problem again tonight.  _Filles de leurs filles et sont couleur de tes paupières..._ the exact reasoning for the woman to have hurt any of them was never said, and if Rose would never speak to him again, he might not ever know. Why had he acted on the advances of the doppelganger-witch? _Qui battent comme les fleurs battent au vent dément_ — _which flutter like flowers in the mad breeze blown_ , he translated, feeling particularly like the flowers in that violent wind. It would be some time before he would be able to let the guilt go—if ever.

At last, the lift rumbled to the end of its journey. Larry exited, waiting for his three friends, to whom he hadn't said a word since they left the hall where Rose had been imprisoned, nor caught anything they might have said. The night they had had was winding down to a close, and Larry wanted nothing more than to return to his dorm and climb into his bed and not leave there until he had a way to undo the damage he had wrought to the four of them. He should have never suggested pursuing this ill-fated adventure. He had seen his two best friends fight, seen the depths of his own poor judgement, and seen the near demise of someone who had come to mean a great deal to him. It had not been a winning night. By the point he came to that conclusion, they were all above ground again. Just being near the plant life he was attuned to calmed some of his lingering nausea and gave him energy enough to head back to the dorms.

The light of the sun was gentle and warm and Larry limped after the party of his friends. He was reminded of the end of the poem, and how, like the creatures who left the field, they were leaving something poisonous behind as well;

" _Le gardien du troupeau chante tout doucement  
Tandis que lentes et meuglant les vaches abandonnent  
Pour toujours ce grand pré mal fleuri par l'automne_..."


	17. Chapter 17

Rose walked between the tall shelves of the Library, searching for the letter H. Her mind wasn't really on what she was doing, and instead was still buzzing with the aftermath of the Catacombs. How foolish she had been to go down there, and to drag Larry into danger too! To fall into such an obvious trap and almost die, again! How had she thought of herself as intelligent before? It was all just so much to process... Odile breaking out of prison, coming after her here, at the Academy, and almost succeeding in her plans! To think what could have happened if the Stooges hadn't found her...

The princess stopped in front of the H's, her eyes roaming the numerous spines for the book she wanted while her mind continued its tirade. No matter what she did the last couple of days, she just couldn't stop thinking about it, about how stupid she had been and what her poor choices almost cost her. Curly, Larry and Moe had somehow fought off a powerful sorceress, but a lot – or rather, most – of it was pure dumb luck and the element of surprise. If Odile had been prepared, if she had known about them, things might have ended differently. And the worst part? Her journal was missing. Next time, and Rose was sure there would be a next time, Odile would be a lot more informed, and now the Stooges were in her sights as well. Her only friends, and now they had giant red targets on their backs because of her!

Frustration made her movements sharper than intended, and the book Rose pulled from the shelf dragged the one next to it out of the neat row, sending it flying to the floor. She huffed a sigh of frustration and crouched down to retrieve it.

* * *

Rhett adjusted the strap of his backpack as he casually entered the library and looked over the tables, most of which were empty. This year had been so boring. The only remotely interesting person was his new roommate, Isaiah Charming, the prince of Andover himself. Rhett had never had a roommate before – his reputation might have played a factor in that – but even if he could get rid of Isaiah, he probably wouldn't. The guy wasn't the least bit afraid of him, and that made for some great back-and-forth pranking, which was currently Rhett's best source of entertainment.

The lack of anything actually interesting happening in the academy made him kind of pouty. Wonderland was so much more fun! At least there people were more... quirky. Not this bland bunch of teens who never burst into spontaneous dances or went on random killing sprees. Ah, he was starting to get nostalgic. Maybe he should look for someone new to introduce John to...

Just as he was pulling up a chair, his attention was caught by the abrupt thud of a heavy book hitting the ground. Rhett looked up, hoping to see a bookshelf topple over on someone, but all it was was a blonde girl that dropped a book, or maybe she'd thrown it, judging by the look on her face. Disappointment settled over his features, before it dawned on him that he'd seen her before. His mouth stretched into a mischievous smirk, and in the time it would take a normal person to blink, Rhett teleported to where she was, lifting the book along with her.

"Careful there, Blondie," he said, smiling pleasantly. "You might bring the whole shelf down." Oh, if only.

* * *

Rose's eyes followed the hand that touched her book to the young man in front of her. Too distracted by her own troubles, she hadn't even seen him approach. He was one of the more handsome ones, and his smile could rival that of a model from a toothpaste commercial.

"Thank you," she said, biting back on a scowl at the unpleasantness of the nickname he used and trying to keep a polite, neutral face. "But I don't think I possess enough strength to knock down the entire thing, even if I was trying to." She looked the guy over again. He seemed vaguely familiar.

* * *

Rhett simply shrugged. "You'd be surprised what people are capable of when they push their limits." It really was quite interesting. For example, some people had a lot higher tolerance for pain than one might think just by looking at them. And some were suddenly capable of doing things they never would've thought possible, provided they had the right motivation. Rhett took a second to wonder how far the girl's limits would stretch. He'd never paid much attention to her before, but they did share a few classes, and she was part of the Choir with him. When he thought about it, whenever he saw her she was rather stiff and robotic, and always alone. But, apparently, this girl was capable of more than polite stoicism, if that book had anything to say about it. It made him curious. She might be a tough nut to crack, but that just added to the fun for him.

The smile on his face grew a little, but he tried to keep it as friendly as possible. "Hey, you're Rose, right? We're in Turion Morr's Goblin class together. You finish that essay yet? I could use a few pointers."

* * *

"Erm..." Rose could feel hot embarrassment well up in the pit of her stomach. If he knew her name they must have been introduced, but she didn't remember it. "Yes, that's me. I'm... I'm sorry, I can't place you at all. Have we met?"

The essay he mentioned was due tomorrow. Was he still not finished? "And yes, I did mine a week ago. I even have the textbook on me, if you need it." He had asked for help; Rose couldn't just turn him down. Plus, she had some free time, and it might even distract her from the storm brewing in her head.

* * *

Her awkward answer and the expression of discomfort on her face made him laugh. "I've heard your name being called when you answer a teacher's question. You do that a lot," he said. Then he nudged her shoulder playfully. "Relax, you haven't forgotten me. Name's Rhett. Rhett Heart. From Wonderland.

"Ah, my savior appears!" he exclaimed dramatically when she agreed to help him, bowing with a sweeping gesture. "To the tables then, Milady. We must work post haste, lest this knight's head end up on a platter!" Well, if his mother had been teaching the class, that would have been an actual possibility. Alas, despite Professor Morr's reputation for violence, he had shown no such inclinations in class.

* * *

This guy sort of reminded Rose of Curly a little, and she had to hold back a chuckle at his theatrics. She walked to the end of the row and settled her things on an empty table, pulling out her Goblin textbook. Truth be told, she only had it because she had mistakenly prepared her bag for Tuesday instead of Monday last night. Her concentration levels weren't exactly high at the moment.

"So how much have you gotten done?" she asked, fishing out her notebook and opening it to her own finished essay.

* * *

Rhett followed her to the table and sat down next to her. "Actually I... haven't started yet." He scratched the back of his head and grinned apologetically. "You mind if I take a look at yours? I won't copy it, I promise, I just want to get a better idea of what I'm supposed to be doing."

* * *

Rose handed him the notebook with a single nod and peered down at the open textbook. The pen in her hand tapped lightly against the page as her eyes just glided over it, not comprehending the words.

Her mind sank into thoughts of Odile again. She had written a casual letter to both her parents and her grandfather, but still had no response. Now she was starting to see why Moe called it 'snail mail'; the waiting was almost unbearable. An unpleasant, cold feeling crept up her stomach when she thought of how her parents might take it if they knew. Her father would not hesitate in sending for her immediately, probably imprisoning her in the castle until Odile was caught again, which could take years. Rose couldn't let that happen, couldn't go back to being alone. Not yet.

There was, supposedly, no safer place than Andover. The Fairy Godmother's magic was supposed to be strong enough to repel even the most malicious villain. But even with the strong wards around the school, there was no reliable way to weed out ill-intentioned magic users from the everyday student. Rose's fingers tightened around the pen. What if Odile found a way back? What if next time she succeeded? What if someone ended up with more than a few scratches? What if... their luck finally ran out?

* * *

The essay was just an excuse, though he wasn't lying about it not being done. So, when Rhett took her notebook and threw a cursory look over her neat, precise handwriting, he wasn't really reading it but instead planning a way to get her talking. One had to be careful with the quiet types; a single wrong word and they could shut you off completely. He had to predispose her, get her to tell him her secrets of her own volition and think it was her idea all along. This required a fair bit of scheming. And charm. But Rhett had always been able to manage that.

His eyes darted to her more than once as he pretended to read, and the way hers unfocused and her hand gripped the pen did not go unnoticed. She was thinking of something, something bad, and Rhett was dying to know what it was. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked quietly so as not to spook her, leaning in her direction just a little bit. "You seem bothered by something. I might not be a literal knight-in-shining-armor, but I can listen?"

* * *

His voice was little more than a whisper but it still made her jump, having brought her very abruptly back to reality. Rose blinked at him for a few seconds, then her gaze fell down to the pages as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's nothing, really. Just... some recent events which... had unpleasant consequences." Her eyes met his and she smiled slightly. "I'm fine, but thank you for offering."

* * *

The wheels in Rhett's head were turning very carefully. He smiled reassuringly and gave her a small shrug. "Hey, if you're not comfortable talking about it, you're not comfortable. I totally get it. Just thought you could use a friendly ear, since I don't see many of those around you." He handed her the notebook and pulled out his own, getting ready to write. "Plus, they say that talking about it can help lighten the load, but it's your choice. You can't help people that don't want to be helped."

* * *

"I do have friends," she said quietly. Her fingers tightened around the pen.

She had been trying not to think about it, but… she wanted to believe she did? They came for her. At the end, they saved her life. Shouldn't that be enough proof that they cared?

So why, then, did she still feel like this?

* * *

Rhett observed her carefully. "You don't sound very sure," he said, keeping his voice soft and low, trying not to scare her back into her shell. He only had one, maybe two classes with Rose, but whenever he saw her, she was always by herself. She didn't talk to any of their classmates or the teachers; she came in, did her thing and left. Very let's-get-down-to-business attitude. He was a little surprised she had any friends at all.

* * *

Rose looked at him. Did she? Her eyes returned to the textbook.

"I… I think I do. Or, at least I thought I did." Her throat tightened, but she pushed down on the emotions trying to rise to the surface. A hand curled over her chest. "Something happened recently, and… I'm not sure anymore. I… I haven't had friends before and… I'm not sure how it's all supposed to work."

* * *

If Rhett were a dog, his ears would have perked up. Juicy gossip! That never failed to make his day. He curbed his excitement, though, and instead pulled a solemn, sympathetic expression. Without saying a word, he reached into his bag and offered her some chocolate. That ought to get her talking.

* * *

The offer of sweets surprised her. "Thank you," she said, taking a piece. It somehow felt sweeter than usual, and she swallowed more easily. "I won't bore you with the details, but recently I was in a situation where..." Rose sighed. "One of my friends... I needed him to be there for me, but there was this girl, so instead he chose to mess around with her and… left me behind. He did come back, eventually," she added, "along with our other friends. But… I don't know. I suppose I feel like… they would have come back for anyone, even if it was a stranger. I just don't know anymore… where I stand with them. Was it all in my head?" Yes, that girl was a sorceress, but Larry had known, and that was what hurt so much. He knew. He knew and deliberately chose her. "If the others hadn't run into him… I don't even know if he would have come back at all."

* * *

"Hmm..." Rhett drawled thoughtfully, popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth. Betrayal and intrigue; it almost made him giggle. "Well, it seems like you're a bit too harsh on him, if you ask me. He was getting some, most guys would do the exact same thing. That doesn't mean that he doesn't care about you… It's just that, you know, we're guys. When we get the chance to bang our brains go primeval. And he did come back, so what's the problem?"

* * *

Thinking of Larry with Odile in that context was physically nauseating, and Rose pushed the chocolate away with a scowl. "But I really did need him. I thought I meant more to him than that… He just threw me to the wayside so easily. And it got me thinking about my other friendships too. Do they really think of me as a friend? Am I imagining it? Would they too forget me with the drop of a hat? Maybe I just had unreasonably high expectations of them; they don't feel the same way I do. I think they still care, but... I just don't know." It had been arrogant of her to believe she was special for somebody. Or maybe it had been wishful thinking.

* * *

"Overthinking it, Blondie," Rhett said firmly, putting the chocolate away. "They came to help you. So what if they're not one the same level of attachment as you? That doesn't matter, because you care about them." This was starting to get boring, quick, mostly because Rose was being dramatic for no reason. He was more interested in learning about those supposed friends and this particular abandonment. Rhett kept his voice friendly and light as he prompted, "And who, pray tell, are these valiant heroes? Or perhaps they're fair maidens?"

* * *

A smile made its way to Rose's face without her even thinking about it. "Heroes." What an apt description. The princess felt a little lighter now; perhaps it was just getting this whole burden off her shoulders and finally talking to someone about this.

"You may know them under a collective nickname; people call them 'The Three Stooges'." She shook her head. It was a bit ridiculous, but somehow endearing at the same time. "Curly, Larry and Moe, or rather, Curran, Lawrence and Moses. They're a bit... infamous." Or at least their shenanigans were. Rose had to bite back on a chuckle.

* * *

Rhett had heard of the Stooges, even if it was only by name – three guys, all a year below him. They hadn't gotten involved in anything too bloody or violent, so he hadn't paid them much attention. Mostly he thought people called them that because they were idiots. "Ah. I didn't know those were their actual names. Geez, those guys' parents must've hated them." He laughed to show her he wasn't serious, but decided against telling her he had thought they were stupid. "So what are they like? I must take notes on befriending you." Rhett drew the notebook closer and pretended to get ready to take notes, watching her eagerly.

* * *

This time Rose did laugh. Just a muffled giggle, but it escaped her. Rhett really was a bit Curly-ish. It made her want to trust him.

"Erm, let's see... Moe is kind of shy, especially around girls, but he's a genius with technology and very knowledgeable when it comes to magic, too. He loves combining the two; his inventions are incredible. He has the cleverest ideas too, like retrofitting a gun to shoot pictures instead of bullets and instant delivery systems and... his mind just works on a completely different level. And he's also very sweet and loyal; he'd jump into the fire for his friends." Maybe he even had, knowing what sort of things they usually got involved in.

"Larry is smart too, but in a different way. He's more book-smart, and well-travelled, and generally has a sarcastic remark about everything. He can be kind of cheesy when he gets going, but in a good way. He can also be very... inspiring when he wants to be, and though he'd probably disagree, he's an amazing public speaker. It's nice to talk to someone whose vocabulary is a little above average and who wouldn't mind to just sit in the library and read with you. The two of us have so much in common, it's almost eerie.

"And Curly..." Rose paused, looking for the right words. "He's... childish. And stubborn. And has a complete lack of a self-preservation instinct. And the most outlandish, moronic ideas that have ever crossed a sane person's mind. In fact, I'm not even sure he's sane at all, the way he just spearheads into dangerous situations." Rose realised she was beginning to grin and had to keep herself from laughing. "And... he's my very first friend. If you want tips on how to befriend me, he's the one you need to talk to. I'm still not sure how he did it, but... well, he's the kind of guy that always wants to help everyone he comes across. Curly is everybody's friend. No idea how he does it, but he has this way of making you loosen up."

Rose pursed her lips, realising that she'd started to run at the mouth. "Ah, sorry, that was probably way more than you wanted to know."

* * *

Success! He'd gotten her to laugh, which meant he'd gotten her to relax. Good.

He listened to her descriptions, but neither of the first two sounded very interesting. Typical nerds. Those tended to crack easily, he barely got any entertainment out of them. But then she started talking about that Curly guy, and that got his attention. "Lack of self-preservation?" Rhett asked, keeping his air light and curious. "What does that mean, does the guy have a death wish or something?"

* * *

Rose's face fell a little. "I think he might," she confessed softly. "He just... I think he takes the fact that he'll come out okay for granted. He's a healer, you see. He can fix cuts, bruises, broken bones, almost anything, and it's gone to his head. It's like he doesn't care about pain and hurting himself, as long as he knows he can heal it, and his two friends are a little like that as well. Not as bad as him, but still. I just can't understand how they can be so blasé about it." She sighed, a heavy, sad sound. "He told me he'd be more careful, but... I don't think he and I share the same idea of 'careful'." For example, going down in the scary abandoned Catacombs in the middle of the night wouldn't fit that description in her head, but apparently was fine and dandy for him. "Not that I expect my warning to faze him, he's probably been told the same thing by his parents. I just... I wish there was some way to make him see that being able to heal doesn't make you invincible. That he does have limits, and maybe someday he'll come across something that's beyond him, and he'll—"

She looked away, hands curling into fists. He wasn't going to die. Rose refused to even say it outloud.

* * *

"So you're worried he's going to get himself killed," he finished for her, trying not to sound as bored as he was. "And the other two, too." What a generic thing to be worried about. He could almost feel his interest dissipating. Rose was just another worrywart, with a huge serving of self-doubt to boot, a typical hen that nagged at her friends to stop having fun, like those moms you see on TV. Rhett was lucky his mother wasn't one of those. "Ah, well," he continued, lazily doodling in the notebook, "shit happens. It sounds like they'll at least leave an interesting story behind if they die."

So she turned out to be boring. What a disappointment. But that guy she talked about, Curly... he was a healer. And, according to Rose, he had a bad habit of not knowing when to stop. Interesting. Rhett made a mental note to find out who this Curly was, and if possible, have a little chat. He sounded like an excellent person to introduce John to.

* * *

_Shit happens?!_

Rose's eyes snapped back up to glare at him, her nostrils flaring. A familiar fire blazed to life in her chest, burning brightly. "No one is dying!" she snarled, louder than intended. "Curly may not know when to quit, but if the water gets too hot I'll pull him back by the seat of his pants if I have to! He is not going to die, because I won't let him die, and if he becomes difficult I will not hesitate to tie him to a chair and lock him in his room! So don't get your hopes up for that news story, because if I have anything to say about it, the only thing you'll read is how no one has seen him for a few days!"

Rose took a deep breath to calm herself. When had she gotten to her feet? Sinking back down to her seat, she closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath to collect herself. When she opened them again and spoke, her voice was quiet, even. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose it like that. I just... a lot of things happened lately, and it's all been kind of building up. Please, can we forget this little outburst?"

* * *

Rhett was just putting the finishing touches on the card soldier he was drawing when Rose sprang to her feet and started yelling at him. The pen fell from his flimsy grasp and he just stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. So much for Rose being generic.

He had spent most of his life in Wonderland, a place where everyone was mad, where you live every day expecting the unexpected. And yet...

To see this normally contained, polite, almost stoic girl stand on her feet and shout, her eyes sparkling with anger—that was merely jarring. What really caught him off guard—and that wasn't a statement he made lightly—was the way she completely smoothed her voice, her face, her posture, all in two seconds flat. It was like seeing someone turn off a switch: sudden rise to instant calm.

Forgetting? Not on her life.

Rhett's mind buzzed with possibilities, with ways to make her do it again, but he didn't have much time to ponder—the silence was quickly stretching on too long, and if he didn't act now, he could lose whatever ground he'd gained with her. "What outburst?" he said innocently after bending down to retrieve his pen and gave Rose an easy grin. "Now, the opening paragraph needs to contain most of the exposition, right?" he added, flipping his notebook to an empty page and assuming a serious writing posture. He could tell this would need to be a slow burn, and the best course of action right now would be to make her comfortable, to engage her in something safe. Make her trust him.


	18. Chapter 18

Rose walked down an empty school corridor, twirling the end of her sidebraid, deep in thought. Curly's birthday was tomorrow, and she had no idea what to do about it, or if she should, in fact, do anything. She had been to other people's birthdays before, of course, though her parents or Rogers were the ones to pick the gift—she didn't even know what it was most of the time—and the affairs were usually rather boring and formal. She'd sign a card. She'd put on a new dress. She'd walk up to the person and give them her good wishes. Often there was dancing involved, the formal kind, and food of some sort.

But this was different, and Rose knew that if she showed up at his door all dressed up, with a box she didn't even know the contents of, and gave him her formal congratulations, Curly would just stare at her as if she'd sprouted a few extra heads. She honestly had no idea how to go about this, but knew it had to be something less... uptight.

A sudden thumping sound snapped the musing princesses back to reality, making her stop. Looking around, Rose realised that she had somehow made her way to the Teacher's Lounge. The door was slightly ajar, and from where she was standing she could see the Physics of Magic teacher, Dr. Pak, eyeing a broomstick laying atop a long, empty table.

"So what are you going to do with it?" came the amused voice of Professor Ezra Cosmo, the Astronomy teacher, from somewhere within the room.

"Hell if I know." Dr. Pak sighed in frustration and ran a hand through her long, black hair. "If I had a use for a flying broomstick I'd have made one myself."

After a short hesitation, Rose approached quietly and peeked through the crack.

Professor Cosmo was sitting in one of the many chairs surrounding the table, his back turned to her. He reached forward and inspected the broom, then chuckled softly. "What kids come up with these days… wish I had been there."

Dr. Pak snorted derisively. "Ha! I've seen way more impressive and creative pranks over the years. A flying broom is outright boring."

Professor Cosmo looked up. "You haven't been a teacher much longer than I."

Rose had to agree with that, they were both quite young.

"In this school, ten minutes longer is enough to see some shit," Dr. Pak said. "As for this," she gestured towards the broom and held her hand open until Professor Cosmo got the hint and reluctantly placed the handle in her palm, "it's going in the broom closet. No one has time to disenchant it."

Her colleague sighed but stood up. "Don't you ever have fun?"

Dr. Pak smirked. "Oh, honey, when I have fun, it's with a different sort of wood. And the flying is way better than this little toy."

Rose backed away from the door as the two teachers headed over and quickly made her way around the corner. The adults continued their light conversation, which honestly left her a bit confused as to how they made the leap from broomsticks to alcoholic drinks, but the more important part was that she saw exactly where they stashed the broom. The princess listened to them walk away, leaning against the wall, and thought about this situation. Curly had said, more than once, that he would love to have a flying broom, and here was one that no one needed or would ever miss. How could she not take it?

-O-

Half an hour later, Rose walked briskly down the hallway leading to the Boys' Dormitories, broom in hand, the heels of her shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor. It wasn't stealing, she told herself again, because it didn't belong to anybody. It was like picking up a pebble from the ground – no one needed or wanted it. What would be the point of it just rotting away in a closet, when she could give it to Curly and make him happy? He'd take good care of the broom, and it would actually be used for something. But... knowing Curly, he'd find a way to hurt himself with it. Rose stopped dead in her tracks and looked at her present. She wanted him to have a good time, but what if he overdid it and fell off or something? He wasn't really the kind of guy that needed one more excuse to do something reckless...

Rose clutched the wooden handle harder and turned around. No, no, this was not an appropriate gift for him; he would definitely get injured. This could only end badly.

But...

She paused and turned around again.

But he would be so happy...

Sighing heavily at her own weakness, Rose continued on her way and stopped before the door of the Three Stooges' dorm. Then she raised her fist hesitantly and knocked.

This was a very bad idea.

* * *

Fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet and having only just finished pulling on a shirt, Curly answered the knock on the Stooges' dorm room door without much thought of who it might be or what they might be knocking about.

"Rose!" he said, a smile lighting his face at the sight of the princess, as he tried to straighten the shirt that stick to his still slightly damp skin. "Come on i—why are you carrying a broom?"

The prince's confused focus dropped to the item in Rose's hands: a nondescript, wooden-handled broom. It only took him a few seconds to connect at least a few of the dots, and his eyes moved back to the blonde's with another smile. "Did I finally convince you to try Muggle Quidditch?" he asked, part teasing and part hopeful. What else could the broom be for?

Unless it was supposed to be some sort of not-so-subtle-hint that they needed to clean their dorm. A quick glance over his shoulder told him no, that was most likely not the case — Moe's workspace was controlled chaos as usual, but everywhere else, aside from his towel and shoes, was tidy.

* * *

She couldn't help an eyeroll at his preposterous suggestion. "You mean that embarrassing display of people running around with brooms between their legs you  _insist_ on calling a sport? Please." Then she looked down at the broomstick hesitantly, and when her eyes rose to meet his again the sarcasm had completely seeped out of her voice. "It's, erm… a present. For you."

* * *

Leaning on the doorjamb with his arms crossed and a smile on his face, Curly replied in a coaxing tone, "It's a lot of fun." But he didn't take Rose's words against one of his favorite non-sports to heart – Quidditch the Muggle way was pretty ridiculous looking after all.

However, when the disdain faded from her expression, leaving uncertainty as she told him that the broom was a present, Curly straightened up, his arms dropping to his sides, and watched her actions with first curiosity, then growing amazement.

* * *

The princess held the broom up horizontally until it began to vibrate slightly then let go of it, and it just hung there in mid-air, waiting for a rider. She took a small step back.

"Happy Seventeenth Birthday," Rose said softly, suddenly overcome with doubts that he wouldn't like it after all.

* * *

It  _floated_. The broom was floating. In mid-air. And if that meant what he thought it meant… The prince's eyes darted to Rose's, his mouth hanging slightly open in astonishment, as she told him happy birthday.

Did she just… did she really just… His eyes flashed back and forth between the broom and Rose's hesitant expression for half a second before he finally accepted that  _yes_ , she  _had_.

Rose just gave him a bona fide flying broomstick.

Aware, as ever, of the princess's boundaries, Curly decided he didn't care in this moment. Simple words were not enough. So, in one sudden move, he stepped around the floating magical broom and wrapped his arms around his friend, hugging her tightly. "Rose, you are the absolute best gift-giver on the planet."

* * *

The look of pure shock on his face actually served to loosen her nerves a little. At least he wasn't eyeing it in distaste.

Rose had just managed a mumbled "Do you like it?" when Curly just came around and hug-attacked her. She stiffened in surprise, not sure how to react to this. It wasn't like he hadn't hugged her before, but it had never been this sudden and unexpected, a literal invasion of her space. If he were a casual acquaintance or a stranger, Rose would be extremely uncomfortable, perhaps even mortified. But… it was Curly. And if it was Curly, it was okay.

It took a few seconds for her to somewhat relax into it, but she raised a hand and patted his back awkwardly. His words of gratitude helped, and she felt herself grinning, happy that he was so excited. He was warm, as always, and she could smell the faint scent of his shampoo, something she couldn't quite place, but it was sort of minty.

* * *

Pulling back from the hug with equal suddenness, Curly grabbed the broom out of the air and took Rose's hand to lead her down the hallway at a pace fueled by his sudden excitement. "C'mon! We have to go test it out!"

Not even thinking about the fact that he didn't have a jacket and it was the last day of January, Curly led Rose down the stairs, around the corner and out to the courtyard by the dorms.

It was gray and chilly, but perhaps warmer than it usually was for this time of year. The flower beds were empty, the grass a dry, dull brown, and even the bronze color of the gazebo did nothing to lighten up the uninhabited space. Not that Curly actually noticed.

* * *

Despite being towed around, Rose couldn't help but smile at how excited Curly was. Even if she got in trouble for this, it would all be worth it just to see him light up like that.

Seconds after they stepped outside, a soft breeze lightly picked up the skirt of her sky-blue dress, but it was warmer than she expected. While still chilly, the weather was not that cold, feeling more like early spring then late winter. Still, the princess was grateful for her grey cardigan, and as soon as Curly let go of her, wrapped it tightly around her body.

"T-test it?" the princess stammered hesitantly, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm.

* * *

"Yes, test it!" he said, grinning as he stopped in the middle of the barren courtyard and turned to face her. "What else does one do with a flying broomstick?"

Just as she had earlier, Curly held out the broom until he could feel it vibrating in his hand, then let go to beam at the magical gift with his fists resting on his sides.

"Did I mention you're awesome already? Because if I didn't, you definitely are. Really, really, awesome."

After staring at his present for a few seconds, the prince felt the need to spontaneously hug Rose again. When he let go of the princess, he grabbed the broom again and swung his leg over, happy to note that whoever had made this wonderful device had placed a cushioning charm on it as well.

Now, time to test if it could actually get off the ground with someone on it.

Curly kicked off lightly, the broom rising smoothly and easily into the air. A delighted laugh left him as he rose higher than Rose's head, one he quickly stifled as he leaned over the handle and took a lazy turn around the courtyard to test the controls. Circling back to her, he set down again, glee clearly written on his face.

"I love this thing!" he exclaimed, dismounting to grab Rose's hands. "You've got to try it. It's amazing!" The prince pulled her with him to the hovering broom. "We can go 'round the courtyard again a few times, make sure it handles the same with two people as it did with one – which was awesome, by the way, as easy as riding a horse – and then we can take it up and really test it. I want to know how fast it can go."

* * *

She didn't want to be a worrywart and spoil his fun, but when her friend stared gleefully at the present, fists on his hips, he looked exactly like he was about to push it and try some strange life-threatening aerial manoeuvre. Just as Rose was about to ask him to please be careful with this new toy, however, he attacked her with physical contact again, making her forget her train of thought and stare into space like a frightened rabbit. Honestly, she was glad he loved it, but why did it necessitate this many hugs? She wasn't used to these out-of-nowhere spur-of-the-moment bursts of affection.

He let go quickly though, and didn't even seem to have noticed her slight discomfort, or anything else besides the broom, for that matter. "Be careful!" Rose called after Curly as he soared up, instantly worried he might fall. "And don't fly too high!" She turned around to follow his flight, his infectious laughter relaxing her nerves almost against her will.

When he finally landed and jumped off to seize her hands, the princess was so startled that before she had realised what was going on, they were already next to the broom.

"Erm, Curly, I—" she tried, stopping half a step away and pulling back slightly. "I don't know about this… I—I got this for you, and I'm so very happy you like it, but I'm not really one for… for… flying." Rogers' voice rang in her head, and his words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. "What if I fall?"

* * *

It was her resistance that brought Curly out of his "holy shit, a flying broom!" excitement enough to notice Rose's discomfort. He almost dropped her hands altogether when she pulled back, guilt stinging his conscious at the reminder that Rose still was not used to casual contact.

But it was her question and the worried look on her face that made him tighten his grip in a reassuring squeeze. "You're not going to fall," he said, his manic zeal fading so his promises would be more believable. "One, you've got much better balance than me—I would fall before you did. And though I don't think that will happen, I expect you to catch me if it does." His words and grin alluded to the beginning of their friendship before he smoothed his face to seriousness again, rubbing his thumbs across the back of her hands. "Two, if you started to fall, I would catch you.

"And I don't plan on going all that high. Just a few feet up, where a fall won't hurt either of us if one does happen." His lips twitched, and he couldn't entirely stifle his grin at his next words. "We can go get riding helmets from the stables if you want." His shoulders were already half-hunched in expectation of Rose's retaliatory smack for his teasing.

* * *

Looking down at their connected hands when he squeezed her, Rose couldn't help feeling a bit bad for ruining his enthusiasm. When he promised to catch her though, her eyes rose to meet his again, and his reassuring caress softened her nerves. If there was anything Rose knew about Curly, it was that he'd never let her—or anyone else—get hurt (on purpose). He was reckless with himself to the point of insanity, but when it came to others, especially his friends, he was always careful.

It occurred to her that the fact that Curly could talk her into anything was probably not a good thing, but then again, it was Curly. He could talk a turtle into running.

Rose smiled slightly. "Okay."

Upon his comment about the helmets, the princess gave him a sardonic, unimpressed look and said, "I think we'd already look ridiculous enough. Or are you going for some sort of record?" Could be, she wouldn't put it past him to place a 'How stupid can I look while I'm doing something crazy' challenge on himself.

Rose waited for him to get on, then eyed the broomstick apprehensively. Taking in a small breath to strengthen her resolve, she carefully edged on the wooden handle to sit behind him, gathering the skirt of her dress and securing it between her thighs. Then she turned to look at his back, and her hands rose to hover uncertainly in the air, unsure how and where she was supposed to hold on to. At first, she reached for his shoulders, but it quickly dawned on her that if he made a sharper turn such a hold might tip his balance. Her eyes slipped down to his waist, and she hesitated.

Again, it was true that Rose had hugged Curly before. But there was always a reason for it. Neither of them was distressed right now, no one needed reassurance or comfort or help of some sort. This was as casual as physical contact could get, and she just… wasn't used to being this informal. Suddenly, Rose was very aware that the guy in front of her was Prince Curran Fitzherbert of Corona, Heir to the Crown, and she was about to be really, really inappropriate.

A frown made its way to her face as soon as she thought it.

_No_. This was  _Curly_. He wasn't some political figure – he was her best friend, and with him it was okay to be a little inappropriate sometimes.

Slowly, tentatively, her hands coiled around his torso and she rested her cheek against his back. His familiar warmth quelled whatever doubts still lingered in her mind, and she smiled faintly, reassured. "Not too high, okay?" Rose muttered into the back of his shoulder, her arms tightening slightly.

* * *

The first few minutes up in the air with Rose passed without incident. Curly kept the broom to a reasonable height, the speed comfortable for his passenger, and made almost lazy circles around the courtyard. Rose didn't freak out—she actually seemed to relax a bit as he went, if the lightened pressure of her arms around him was any indication.

Naturally, this made the prince want to try going faster, higher, and maybe try something a little more difficult than going in circles. Equally naturally, this turned out to be an absolutely horrible decision.

It started off okay. Curly eased the broom upward slowly, taking two circles of the courtyard to get up to the tops of the trees surrounding the gazebo. Another circle saw them clear of the tree tops, which was when Curly tried putting on a little bit of speed. That was when everything started to go wrong—terribly, terribly wrong.

First, the broom shuddered under them, bucking, and before he could try to slow back down or guide the broom back to the ground, it jerked forward and sped up, gathering speed as it went zooming, out of control, through the air. "Hold on!" he shouted over the sound of their passage to Rose.

Curly quickly realized there was no hope of slowing or stopping the broom. No matter how he pulled, tugged, or shifted his weight, the broom didn't respond, continuing to race onward—though, at least it seemed to be going in a straight line, no sudden swerves or jerks that might have thrown him and Rose off. The school was quickly left behind, leaving them shooting over the forest where they had fought the giant spider last Halloween, then that, too, was left behind, the trees petering out to scattered clumps, zipping away underneath them.

Fields, more trees, and then in the distance, Curly could make out the town of Andover. The broom still wasn't slowing. In desperation, he tried to angle the handle downward, hoping to at least bring the careening magical object close enough to the ground to allow them to jump off. Unexpectedly, almost shockingly, the broom actually responded to this—angling steeply downward, it didn't lose any speed, and Curly quickly realized his mistake. He couldn't pull up again.

That's when he spotted the house, the sharply sloped roofing, the broken windows, rising up out of the trees—right in the path of the rapidly descending broom.  _Shit_ , he thought. "Brace yourself!"

A couple of meters or so up, the broom jerked again, almost sputtering, and the magic that Curly had felt beneath his fingers stopped buzzing. The cessation of the crazy acceleration almost made the free fall that followed feel like he was floating. Then the roof came up to meet them, the prince trying to push the useless broom away from himself and Rose, right before crashing through shingles and wood, dropping down inside the house with an enormous crash.

* * *

At first, Rose was very nervous as the broomstick lifted off and hovered over the grounds, but the slow pace and Curly's presence helped her relax into it, and , dare she say it, even enjoy the ride a little bit. When he started pulling up, she got an odd feeling at the pit of her stomach but kept herself from saying anything, seeing as the ascent was slow and he seemed to have good control over it.

And then everything went south.

Her arms tightened around him reflexively as the broom shuddered under them, and Rose instantly knew the enchantment on it must be acting up. It quickly became apparent that all control over the object was lost, and all Rose could think was  _Oh no_ , right as it suddenly jerked into high speed. A yelp escaped her, but she did as he said and held on, watching the scenery below fly by, a feeling of dread creeping up her spine.

This was a horrible mistake. She should never have given him something without testing it, she should have made sure it was safe, she should have asked Dr. Pak for permission, she should have—

The broom dipped down abruptly, interrupting her mental tirade, and she screamed, knowing they were about to crash. Then it shuddered one last time, and the enchantment left it.

Colliding with the rotten rooftop was nothing compared to the shock her body absorbed upon hitting the floor of the dusty, dark attic below. The wind was quite literally knocked out of her, and for a few solid minutes she could only lie still, waiting for the world to come into focus again. There was a sharp, stinging pain in her left shoulder, and when she managed to turn her head and look at the injury, she saw a dark spot forming on her grey cardigan. Something was stuck there, but the angle wouldn't allow her to see what it was. Rose attempted to sit up, whimpering from the pain, and noted that her whole body hurt, and that there was another sharp ache in her leg, tough as she threw a look down, it seemed just fine. A sprain, most likely.

* * *

"Ow." Everything hurt. Everything. The impact against the rotted wood of the roof hadn't been that bad since it broke pretty much before he had time to register that he'd actually hit something, but the support beam underneath… His ribs were probably cracked, but that wasn't so bad since he couldn't get a breath in anyway. That, and the concussion from where he hit his head on the solid wood flooring were probably the worse of his injuries, but there was also a sprained ankle and a dozen or so cuts and scrapes from falling through the roof. Curly could feel his gift already at work on the injuries, indiscriminately fixing the damage, but it took a long moment for his head to clear enough for him to direct it to the important stuff.

Such as… "Rose?" He rolled onto his side, groaning as his ribs protested, and spotted her, several feet away, stirring as well. "Are you okay?" Pulling himself across the dusty floor—no one and nothing had been up here in a long, long time—the prince laid his hand against her shoulder, sending a trickle of magic into Rose's body to check her injuries. Almost immediately he took his hand off her shoulder, realizing there was a shard of something stuck there, and pushed himself to sit up and edge around so he could get a better look at it.

"Ouch," he murmured, fingers brushing around the piece of wood sticking out of his friend. "This, uh, this is going to hurt, but I need to pull that out, so I can heal it. Okay?" Rather than give Rose time to think about it, Curly grabbed the end of the splinter and yanked it out, then pressed his hand against her shoulder as he directed his magic into the wound. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Rose gasped as pain shot through her entire arm when the bit came out of her shoulder. She had never bled before, and the thought alone was a little horrifying. The way Rogers spoke about it, she completely expected blood to spurt out of the injury like a broken pipe, and that she would somehow be able to  _feel_ herself bleeding. Neither of these things happened, though, and the pain was quickly dulled by Curly's magic.

"This is karma," she muttered, propping herself up on her good elbow, hissing in pain as she did so. "Why couldn't I leave that broom alone... I swear I will never take things without permission ever again; that was a horrible, horrible thing to do, a complete and utter lapse in judgement on my part! ... But you've always wanted one and I just..." Rose looked down, like a guilty puppy caught doing something wrong, and finished quietly, "I just wanted to make you happy on your birthday." Oh boy, did that backfire.

She looked around wearily. "Where... where even are we?"

The place was, well, a dump. She'd only caught a quick glance at the building from the outside, but there was no mistaking the boarded-up windows or the general state of disrepair of the building. It might have been a manor at one point, or a summer palace, but right now it was little more than a ruin, and it didn't look any better on the inside. Other than the gaping hole in the roof, the only other source of light was a tiny window at the far end, whose glass was missing. The measly beam of sunlight reached about halfway through the dim attic, which was full off objects of different sorts and sizes, from a towering wooden wardrobe in the corner to a glass case of collectable spoons, balanced on top of a dust-covered roll-top desk. Rose's eyes briefly lingered on an old-timey rocking chair, a tall, full sized mirror, and an ancient typewriter perched on top of an old, circular table, before fixing on the trail Curly had left on the floor.

* * *

Listening to Rose berate herself, Curly was torn between laughing at how typical it was for her to blame herself, and trying to reassure her that their situation wasn't her fault. After all, she didn't make the broom. And she hadn't been flying it when it went nuts.

But Curly wasn't going to blame himself any more than he was going to blame Rose. He would blame whoever made the faulty broom. "We can consider it a lesson learned," he suggested. "It's not your fault. And I did have fun. So don't worry about it."

Finished with Rose's shoulder, the healer switched his attention to his own injuries and helped her up, leaving the analysis of their surroundings to the princess until he was done. "Some old house farther than I'd really like to be from the school or town." Beyond that, he really had no idea. As curious a person as he was, his time was too wrapped up to have done much exploring outside of Andover Academy.

* * *

Her eyes moved to linger on his chest. "You're covered in dust," Rose said, reaching to pat down the front of his shirt. The particles danced in the light in a cloud of dust, making her sneeze. She had never been in such an unkempt place; even the school catacombs were not this dirty!

The princess was just about to say that they needed to find the door and leave when some sort of noise reached her ears, prompting her to keep silent. Voices were whispering somewhere below. She looked down, not sure what exactly she expected to see, and listened. Something creaked.

Rose took a small step closer to Curly. "Did you hear that?" Her eyes quickly scanned the room again, then turned to him. "I thought this place wasn't... inhabited."

She had a bad feeling about this. A very, very bad feeling.

* * *

As Rose tried to dust off his shirt—a hopeless effort—Curly tried to guess how far they had come from the school and whether they could get back there or to town more quickly. These thoughts were quickly forgotten when the princess drew his attention to the noises coming from below.

"I did," he said, not quite worried, but definitely more alert than he had been before. "It could be squatters." He didn't actually think that particular guess was likely, given how far he thought they were outside of town, but nothing was really impossible.

"They couldn't have missed us crashing through the roof. Let's go and see if they're... friendly." Taking Rose's hand, Curly spotted a likely door (since it seemed to be the only one up here) and headed for it. All the while, the whispering continued.

* * *

Honestly, only Curly could hear scary whispers in a creepy old house and think ' _maybe they're friendly_.'

"But, erm, what if…" Rose trailed off, reluctantly letting him lead her through the room. His suggestion the noises being caused by 'squatters' immediately made her mind to jump to 'homeless people' and then to 'criminals'. How was he always so relaxed about everything!? Okay, she knew that as a prince he'd had at least some basic hand-to-hand training, but what if it was a gang or something? Those noises definitely indicated more than one person, otherwise there wouldn't be any whispering. Still, her resistance was so measly he pulled her along with ease, probably without even registering it, as her mind kept racing with possible outcomes, mostly ending up badly. What if whoever was down there  _wasn't_  friendly? What if they were walking right into danger? What if—

Some sort of movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye and Rose jumped with a startled yelp, instinctively squeezing his fingers. The source of the fright, however, turned out to be… their own reflections. Despite the thin layer of dust which covered the surface of the full-size mirror, their forms were still clearly distinguishable. Rose let out a sign of relief, placing a palm upon her racing heart in an attempt to slow it down. Then her mirror-image stuck out its tongue.

For a few seconds, all the princess could do was stare at the mirror in confusion. Then the reflection crossed its eyes and blew up its cheeks, pulling a very undignified face. Rose gasped in indignation. The mirror her, however, did not seem deterred. It laughed, took a few steps closer and continued to taunt her, making weird faces. Rose's whole face flushed with embarrassment.

"How rude!" she said. "Stop that!"

* * *

Curly jerked to a stop when Rose did, looking around quickly for whatever had startled her. Initially (mostly because he looked in the wrong direction), he saw nothing and looked at Rose with a frown. That was when she flushed and spoke, making Curly finally notice the mirror.

The mirror that currently showed Rose's reflection grinning, unrepentant, while his, noticing his attention, started hopping around like a monkey. His own reflection's antics didn't bother him, but the sight of Rose's reminded him uncomfortably of that night in the catacombs.

"Is that a... joke mirror?" he said, uncertain. Joke mirrors  _did_ exist, but they weren't exactly common and this definitely wasn't somewhere he would have expected to find one.

Just then, an icy cold feeling traveled up his spine, like one of the times Larry had dropped a snowball down the back of his shirt, just in the wrong direction. Worse, whatever had caused it had a very definite shape and form: that of a human hand.

Spooked more than he could explain, Curly tugged on Rose's hand. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

The mirror, though it seemed harmless to Rose – irritating as it was – seemed to have some sort of effect on Curly. It wasn't something obvious, something he said or did. It was a shift in his air, in his stance, his voice, and Rose couldn't say what it was or how exactly she could tell, but she felt it, and her own manner changed.

It was true that she had been worried before, but even if she complained about it in her head, she hadn't noticed how reassuring his lightheartedness had actually been, and now that it was gone, the situation suddenly seemed ten times more grim. But then, she thought, they could not afford to lose their heads. And if Curly himself was unnerved, that was all the more reason to stay calm.

"Right," Rose said firmly, gripping his hand better as her eyes moved from his face to the reflections. "Let's go." Reaching for an old, moth-eaten coat hanging from a chair nearby, the princess covered the odd mirror.

She pulled him towards the only exit, taking the lead this time. The door of the attic opened to reveal a dark staircase with peeling wallpaper and dirty wooden steps. Rose's eyes remained fixed on the bottomless darkness before them, and her stomach sank with a very unpleasant sense of déjà vu. It settled there like a heavy lead ball, and the fear rose up in her chest, threatening to choke her. She took a deep breath. A shiver escaped her, and the hand holding his trembled, but didn't let go.

She exhaled. Curly's hand was warm in hers, and that was all she reassurance she needed.

"Watch your step."

Keeping her free hand to the wall for support, Rose took the first step.

* * *

When he had first met her, Curly probably wouldn't have thought Rose would be much help during a crisis. At that time, she had seemed the type to freeze. Halloween had proved that impression wrong, and Curly couldn't have been happier for it than right then.

While Rose guided them to the exit, the prince couldn't help but scan the dusty, cluttered attic. What had initially seemed relatively innocuous took a sinister cast. There, that shadow, by the old wardrobe with the loose door—was it moving? He jerked his gaze away, chiding himself for imagining things, but the chill of fear still coated his skin and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

But when he looked down the stairway into pitch blackness, his heart stuttered and his mind conjured up every horror movie he had ever seen. Nuh-uh, he thought. No way. Not going down those stairs. He almost suggested they try to climb out the holes they'd made in the roof and climb down. That was when he heard the giggling.

The giggling that wasn't coming from down the stairs. The giggling that was coming from behind them. From somewhere in the attic.

Hair standing on end, Curly couldn't bring himself to look back into the attic. Hell, he almost bolted down the stairs at that sound. He just barely managed to keep himself from doing so, squeezing Rose's hand and trying to use the steadiness she exuded to calm his frazzled nerves. It sort of worked. Until the giggling came again, closer, and the prince couldn't control the urge to run anymore.

Pushing ahead of Rose, he barreled down the stairs, skipping steps as best he could without letting go of the princess's hand. Behind them, the attic door slammed shut and the giggling escalated to maniacal laughter that seemed to come from the very walls.

* * *

While Curly seemed to very intently ignore the voices coming behind them, Rose instinctively turned back when she heard them. She didn't stop the descent, but the idea that someone could have been up there with them was extremely unsettling.

What little the princess could still see of the attic did not show any signs of human presence, but as she was straining her eyes to see anything out of the ordinary in the room, her braid suddenly floated up in the air and started undoing itself. That was the exact moment when Rose stopped being afraid and instead started feeling annoyed.

_Ghosts_ , she thought. There weren't any people in here, just stupid ghosts! Before she could open her mouth to say anything, the giggling came again, this time right in front of her face – obviously the thing undoing her hair thought that was  _hilarious_ – and Curly bolted down the stairs at full speed, dragging her along. It was all she could do not to fall flat on her face, but she somehow managed to reach the bottom in one piece.

"What is the matter with you?" she said to her friend when the door behind them shut, letting go of him to fix her hair. "We almost fell down those stairs! I'm wearing heels, you know." The laughter echoed all around them, but it only served to irritate her further. "Oh, quiet down, it was not that funny!" she called out to the house.

As she was finishing the work on her braid, Rose gave Curly a more careful look. He seemed, for some reason, rather spooked. "Curly," she said gently, taking his hand again. "It's just ghosts. You've braved all sorts of beasts and dangers, don't tell me you're afraid of simple poltergeists?"

* * *

"What's the matter with me?" Curly turned to look at Rose with wild eyes as the laughter continued, sending chills down his spine and making him want nothing more than to get out before the ghosts decided they were done just playing with them. He watched horror movies. He knew how this went. Fuck, ghosts were probably the scariest part of horror movies.

He could barely see Rose in the gloom of the lower levels of the house, but he felt the distinct absence of her hand in his, could make out her outline as she did something with her hair, and he couldn't understand why she was so calm. Why she literally  _berated_ the laughing spirits around them. As if they were errant classmates. Or children. It boggled the mind.

Her statement of "just ghosts" didn't help clear anything up, though having her hand in his again did help calm the prince. Aside from watching horror movies and the vague knowledge that ghosts did, in fact, exist, Curly had never actually learned anything about them. Much to his detriment in the current situation. If he'd learned something, he could have done  _something_ , besides running scared.

"Simple poltergeists?" A nervous (probably close to hysterical, if he was being honest with himself) laugh escaped him. "Have you ever watched  _The Poltergeist_? People die in that movie." His eyes darted around the room, not that he could see much, before settling back on the outline of Rose's face. "We've got to get out of here."

* * *

"I can't say that I have," she said in reply to his movie question.

Rose hadn't seen horror movies – what reason would she have to watch one? – but she had read plenty of books on ghosts. Magical science books. Being afraid of ghosts, to Rose, was like being afraid of lightning. If you understand the way it works, it's not that scary at all.

There were three major types of ghosts: Guardian Ghosts – benevolent spirits that hardly ever announced their presence unless called upon or if they were helping someone; Vengeful Ghosts – what was left behind by a scorned or angry individual. The most powerful of the bunch, and also the most dangerous.

The third type, Poltergeists, were not as nice as the Guardian Ghosts and not as strong as the Vengeful Ghosts; they were mostly pranking menaces. Mainly influence physical objects rather than use their own spiritual power to cause harm, their antics tended to result in small, but very persistent damages to any house they chose to settle in. This place was probably abandoned because the previous owners couldn't stand the ghosts – getting rid of a poltergeist was nearly impossible.

Her eyes attempted to scan the room, but the boarded up windows made it too dark to see anything. They needed a light source. "We'll leave, but first things first." Rose put both hands on Curly's shoulders. "Take a deep breath, okay? Poltergeists are not scary. They are very annoying and loud, but they are not going to kill you. I don't know how people died in the movie, but it's not going to happen to us. I promise." The worst these menaces could do was throw objects at them. "We defeated a giant spider and a vindictive sorceress. We can handle a few spirits. Deep breath." Rose breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly.

* * *

It was a little bit surprising (though Curly wasn't exactly sure  _why_ it surprised him) that Rose's words actually had an effect. An irrational fear usually wasn't the type to be rationalized away, or mitigated by the knowledge that one had faced down other foes before (particularly when those other foes were tangible and one's current enemy was most definitely  _not_ ), but as he focused on the undefined outline of the princess, the warmth of her hands, and took that deep breath with her, he found himself relaxing. The spooked feeling was still there, but he was calmer, less inclined to bolt. He almost managed a smile, but thankfully it was still too dark to make out expressions. "Okay."

* * *

Snickering echoed around them once again as if to undermine her words, but her hands moved down to give his a light squeeze and she moved her thumbs over them reassuringly, like he had done when she had been nervous about the broom. "Ignore them," she said. Then she approached the nearby silhouette of a table, dragging Curly along, and took a large three-pronged candelabra. "Looking for a light switch would be pointless; I doubt anyone has paid the electricity bill for a while. This should do." She let go of him again briefly to light it with the box of matchsticks lying next to it.

"There," Rose said, holding it up to examine the room. Many portraits adorned the walls of this spacious living room, which was, for some inexplicable reason, elephant themed. The table legs were carved to resemble elephants, two of the animals towered on each side of the derelict fireplace, and a cabinet along the right wall was full of miniature statues of them, either white or black, in a variety of sizes. On the opposite wall, the owner had two elegant-looking swords with elephant heads on their ivory pommels, crossed in the shape of an X.

* * *

Blinking when Rose struck a match and lit the candles, Curly averted his eyes from the tiny pricks of  _too-bright_  and scanned the room around them. The elephants were a bit inexplicable—who decorated with this many elephants—but they didn't hold his attention for long. The candlelight reflected off the decorative sheaths of the swords hanging on the wall, drawing the prince as he forced himself to ignore more snickers from whatever spirits occupied the house. Reaching up, he carefully lifted one off the wall, its weight not as reassuring as that of Corona's frying pans, but a comfort nonetheless. Even if he doubted a sword would do any good against a ghost.

Thus pointlessly-armed, he returned to Rose, taking her hand as he spotted another door. "Time to try the next exit?" The words didn't quite meet his usual carefree tone, but Curly told himself that it wasn't a bad effort.

The faint scratch of metal on wood warned Curly just in time (well, that and the sudden silence from the giggling ghosts) to get the sheathed sword up and block the blade slicing at their heads. Which appeared to be floating in mid-air, but another round of laughter gave him a good idea of what exactly was wielding the other weapon.

Their invisible attacker backed off, only to come at them again, the blade whipping through the air. A neat twist of his wrist parried the strike, but the ghost was quick to try again, chopping at Curly's opposite arm without finesse. The prince got his sword up in time to throw off the attack, pushing Rose back, out of what he hoped was the ghosts reach. It made it harder to see, having the flickering light of the candelabra behind him, but he kept blocking the hacking blade. Despite the resurgence of fear in his veins, he kind of felt bad for the ghost—it really had no idea how to use a sword.

Until he noticed something funny, all of a sudden, and the fear turned to aggravation. Dropping his own sword, on the next downswing of the ghost-sword he reached out and caught the blade. The impact stung, but as he had suspected, the edge didn't so much as scratch the skin of his palm. "They're  _decorative_ ," he said, yanking the sword away from the invisible force holding it and then whacking at the air where his opponent should have been. The giggles cut off. "Probably couldn't even cut  _butter_."

Feeling somehow cheated (he hadn't  _wanted_ to have a swordfight with a ghost, but knowing the ghost was just messing with him was, well… ) , Curly tossed both swords back toward the wall they had hung on and turned to Rose. "You're right—they're just loud and annoying. Let's get out of here and get back to the school."

* * *

When Curly reached up to grab the blade, Rose's heart literally skipped a beat. It was only when he said the word 'decorative' that she realised she had been holding her breath as well. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she exhaled in relief.

"Oh, honestly," Rose said in exasperation, when he carelessly tossed the swords on the ground, putting the candelabra down on the table. "You can't just leave things on the floor." Bending down, the princess took the swords and carefully hanged them where they used to be. Then she took a step back to judge the symmetry of her work, nodding in satisfaction. "Now we can go."

Taking the candelabra once again in one hand and Curly's in the other, Rose took a step towards the door. It immediately struck her as suspicious that it was wide open. Keeping her guard up just in case, she approached it slowly, only to have it slam shut right in their faces, nearly extinguishing the candles. Loud giggles echoed in the empty house, reverberating from the walls. Rose's annoyance reached a boiling point.

"The scariest thing about these badly behaved bunch of bullies are their  _manners_!" she said loudly, almost shouting the last word, then shoved the candelabra at Curly. "Hold this." Bending down and undoing the straps securing her shoes to her ankles, Rose slipped them off, handing them over a bit more gently. "These too."

She stood there, barefoot and short, huffing at the obstacle. Max had just started teaching her kicks – the roundhouse in particular had been easy to master due to her brief background in ballet – and the old door looked rickety enough that Rose thought she could take it down. With a deep breath, the princess spun in place, putting as much kinetic energy into the motion as possible. The rotten wood gave way, and the door fell backwards onto the dusty carpet of the hallway with a muffled  _thump_.

"There! Let's see them close us off now," Rose said triumphantly as the irritating laughter died down once again. She turned to Curly to collect her shoes, and only now, in the light of the candelabra, did she notice a scrape on the back of the right heel. "Oh no!" the princess exclaimed, holding the shoe as if it were an injured animal. "When did this happen?" Her face fell as she brought it closer to the light to inspect the damage. "Must have been when we fell… My poor Manolo Blahniks!" She hugged her scraped limited-edition heels sadly. "Don't worry," Rose spoke to them softly, "I'll find you a cobbler as soon as we get back." Slowly, cautiously, the princess slipped them back on her feet and secured the straps. "Is it too noticeable?" she asked Curly, turning around so he can have a clear view.

* * *

Amused by Rose's need to put things back where they had found them—in a haunted house, of all places—Curly thought he should probably be thankful that she couldn't see him smile. She might smack him for it. Which, really, the thought of her reaction to his amusement only served to amuse him further. He only just managed to wipe the smile off his face when she came back to him, schooling his features into a deliberately expectant look before turning to walk with her through the door.

Only to have the rickety thing crash closed inches from their noses.  _Damn ghosts_ , he thought, frowning. If the situation had been different, he might have laughed, but as it was, the fading remnants of his initial fear made the prince uncharacteristically irritable. He wasn't used to being scared, only to find out there was nothing to be scared of after all.

Rose was handling this misadventure much better than he was.

Not expecting to have the items shoved into his arms, Curly fumbled with the heavy candelabra, got a good hold of it, and almost dropped the shoes. Thankfully, Rose was a little more careful with those, and he hooked a couple of the straps to let them dangle from his fingers.

Even more unexpectedly, when he lifted his eyes from making sure he had the shoes, the prince watched his dainty, almost prissy friend perform a perfect roundhouse and knock the piece of junk door right off its hinges. "Huh." Where had she learned to do that? It definitely wasn't something Rogers would have approved of for a perfect princess. The thought had him grinning as Rose took back her shoes.

Only for the grin to turn into a quickly stifled snort, his hand slapped over his mouth and nose, as Rose did perhaps the girliest thing he had ever seen her do (though, to be fair, he had seen his father react similarly to damage to some of his clothing; he and his mom had given up not laughing at the sight years ago). He turned his head away from Rose, staring up at the ceiling as he struggled not to laugh, fist pressed to his mouth to hide the twitching of his lips. A quick glance was all he could give the shoes before he looked away again, coughing to cover up the giggle that threatened to slip out.

"Uh, nope, not, nope, not noticeable at all." Dropping his hand, Curly stared over the princess's head, eyes wide as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. "We should keep looking for that exit." He glanced down at her face for half a second, grinned broadly, and yanked his attention to the hallway before he really lost it. Taking Rose's hand again, he led the way (at a completely reasonable pace) out of the elephant room, candlelight flicking over faded portraits and peeling wallpaper.

* * *

At first, Rose thought Curly might have indigestion. He was acting rather odd, and not the spooked kind of odd, but the... The kind of odd when he was trying (and failing) to hold back a laugh.

Her face fell as she let him walk ahead. The flickering light of the candelabra fell on paintings where faces turned into demons and pretty green landscapes into bloody fields, but she barely noticed.

"You think it's funny," Rose said quietly, staring at the floor. "I know, someone like me, trying to... to kick the door down... must seem silly." She had just been too peeved to care, and maybe... maybe she had thought... "This is exactly why I haven't told anyone yet," Rose confessed. "That I'm trying to learn this, I mean. It's not a very proper thing for a princess to attempt... I see why you find it comical. I just, I forgot I was supposed to be proper... because I'm with you. And you never... I mean, you always accept me the way I am, so I thought..."  _I thought it would be... safe. To forget myself. To be myself._  She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Can you just promise not to tell? I don't want other people to know."

* * *

Still trying to banish the image of Rose cuddling her shoes and the laughter it inspired, Curly couldn't have asked for a better way to do so than to have the girl herself call him out on it. Her tone immediately had him hunching his shoulders guilty, turning with the beginnings of a sheepish expression on his face.

Except… Rose wasn't talking about the shoes. Despite how clear her words made it, the fact that she thought he was laughing because she  _kicked down the door_ took several seconds to actually make it into his head. Then he was left staring at her in disbelief, spine straight and mouth slightly open as she seemed to condense in on herself like she was shutting some part of herself down.

"Rose, whoa, no, that's not—" he said, reaching for her, waving his hand as if to banish her words. "I wasn't laughing about the kick—that was kind of awesome, actually, where did you learn to do that, it was great form. Wait, no, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to…" he paused, shaking his head and waving a hand again for his own rambling. A deep breath and he did his best to meet her eyes in the flickering light.

"I was laughing about the shoes," he admitted, guilty look returning. "I've never seen you act so… heh. You know my dad does that sometimes? Puts me and my mom in stitches every time."

Clearing his throat of laughter, he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned, sheepish once more. "That was a good kick. And I'm… it's actually really cool that you're learning to do stuff like that." It would be good for her to be able to protect herself, physically at least. Though he'd rather she not wind up in any more situations where she might have to, it was better to be prepared. Just in case.

Another, more mischievous grin flashed across his face. "I bet Rogers would throw a fit if he knew." Remembering her request not to tell, he quickly held up his free hand. "I promise not to tell anyone if you don't want anyone to know."

* * *

"Oh, I, erm..." Rose was caught off guard by his words. What was so funny about her shoes? And what was that supposed to mean, she acted like a former thief?! She dismissed the thought, choosing to reply to his question instead. "I'm taking private lessons, actually. Max is teaching me." There was no need to elaborate; she knew Curly and Max knew each other. "We meet once or twice a week... kind of in secret." Her face flushed at the thought of Rogers finding out. "And Rogers will kill me if he knew. As would my dad... and any Lord and Lady in Oloria."

She looked at him, smiling slightly, and said hopefully, "You really think I had good form? I haven't practised this move much, but Max says I'm improving quickly. He's such a great teacher, he knows just how much to push me and when to let me take a breath." The smile grew as she thought back to her training. "I never thought wrapping my hands alone would be so complicated. He showed me this really neat trick to—"

Just then, two cold, metal arms wrapped around her. Before she even knew what was going on, she heard screeching as the suit of armour picked her up, letting her feet dangle in the air.

"... What do you think you're doing?" she asked flatly. The suit didn't reply. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it simply turned around and started walking.

"And where are you going to take me? Further down the hall? What is the point, just put me down!" Rose piped up again, but it fell on deaf ears. Possibly because suits of armour don't have ears.

* * *

Curly wasn't sure what the confused look that flashed across Rose's face was for, but he smiled anyway, imagining that she had no idea what was so funny about her reaction to her scuffed shoe. Which, of course, just made it funnier.

Max was easy to bring to mind—tall, brunette, formidable sparring partner. Nice guy. He was a good choice to learn from, Curly decided. "Can't kill you," he said with a grin. "Then one of them would have to learn necromancy to bring back the heir." He didn't voice the thought that also crossed his mind—that the Olorian nobility was a bunch of idiots if they thought their princess learning to fight was a bad thing. Guards were all well and good, but they weren't infallible. But that would be insulting, and he didn't want to risk pushing any buttons after just clearing up one misunderstanding.

It was good to see Rose light up as she talked about her training—he loved seeing her enthusiastic about stuff, and learning to fight was definitely something that could use her enthusiasm. He was nodding along, imagining Rose trying to wrap her hands, when the suit of armor grabbed her, turned around and walked away.

"Hey!" Curly whacked the thing's shoulder with the flat of his hand without thinking, shaking off the sting as he jerked himself into motion behind it. "Put her down."

The suit was wide enough that he had a bit of trouble ducking around it with the candelabra (though he had no trouble keeping up; the damn thing was just  _walking_ , and not even that fast) to face Rose again, walking backwards. She dangled from the armor's arms, her own trapped in its grip, expression irritated but not alarmed. "What the heck is up with these ghosts?"

Since the question was rhetorical, he didn't wait for an answer as jammed the candelabra's base into the helmet's face mask. It had no effect on the metal man (ghost?), but now both his hands were free and he took advantage of that, searching for clasps to undo in the hopes of dismantling the suit. Or just getting the arms off the thing to free Rose.

"You might drop," he said as he found them, and then undid them, only to let out a frustrated curse as the suit held together anyway—obviously ghost power. "So much for that." Yanking on the arms likewise did nothing, not that he actually expected it to work. Stopping and pushing on the thing in an effort to make  _it_ stop didn't work—his feet just slid along the carpet as it kept going.

* * *

Rose watched his efforts, not even bothering to struggle. She doubted very much that the ghosts would hurt her, and to be honest, was a bit curious as to what they were up to. What were they planning to do with her anyway?

The princess scrunched up her nose when he swore. "For the millionth time, Curly, stop cursing! Honestly, you're a prince."

She wasn't completely sure he heard her, as he continued his pointless struggle without stopping to reply.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, Curly caught sight of an open door as they came even with it. Turning his head to look into the room, he yelped and ducked as a vase came hurtling out of it, smashing against the opposite wall, much to the apparent delight of the poltergeists if the laughter was anything to go by. "I'm not cleaning that up!" he told the giggling spirits as he popped back up to see the armor heading through the doorway into the room. Curly jumped through after it before the ghosts could think to slam the door, feeling a little foolish when he realized there wasn't one for them to shut him out with.

A quick glance told him the room was a dining room of some kind, judging by the central table and sidebar, before another vase was thrown at him. Ducking that one too and hearing it shatter behind him, he caught back up to the still-moving armor and Rose. "You guys are just breaking your own stuff."

He reached up and pulled the candelabra from the face plate. It flapped at him, eye slots glowing red, a cackle echoing inside the armor that was creepy enough to make the prince shudder before he resolutely ignored it, looking at Rose. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked, having to dodge another vase as the poltergeists continued to laugh and hound them. He could see shadows moving unnaturally in the periphery, but now that he knew the ghosts were just trying to scare him, he did his best to ignore that too.

* * *

"Just let them do what they want," Rose said with a tired sigh. "He'll drop me eventually. When he takes us wherever we're going." There really was no sense in struggling against something made of metal that never got tired. So, Rose simply let the suit carry her through the dining room, all the way to the bottom and through an arch, leading to a spacious adjoining ballroom. Despite tall windows, this part of the house was still in relative darkness, until lights came to life above them, illuminating the beautiful, if a bit decrepit, room. A large chandelier glimmered from the ceiling, and amazing paintings adorned the walls, which were decorated in the slightly extravagant baroque style. In the corner, there stood a piano, which though covered in dust, had obviously been very expensive once.

The arms released Rose, and she landed softly on the floor. The armour made its way to the corner, where it finally stood still. Suddenly, loud whispers filled the room and silhouettes began to take shape all around them. The piano's keys started playing on their own. The semi-transparent spirit of a woman appeared before them and slowly approached. She was dressed in a beautiful red ball gown, which may have been the last in fashion a century or so ago. Her black hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, and her face was obscured by a black mask.

Rose instinctively reached for Curly's hand.

* * *

Curly reached for Rose's hand at the same time she reached for his. Where the nightmarish shadows, glowing red eyes and ghastly noises had failed to bring back his earlier fear, the spirit approaching them now sent a thrill of apprehension down his spine. He wasn't sure why. Maybe elegant women dressed in red reminded him a little too much of his father's stories; maybe it was the way she was almost solid, but not quite, and the way her dress faded into nothingness, so that her ghostly form glided across the floor without truly touching it. None of the other ghosts had made themselves visible, not until her—was it some sort of indication that she was a more powerful spirit? Maybe it was the mask—what ghost needed to wear a mask?

Or maybe it was the fact that she was apparently the one in charge, and therefore responsible for the suit of armor snatching Rose.

The spirit stopped right before them and laughed. Behind her, more well-dressed 'guests' started to appear, twirling in long-forgotten dances.

"No need to be afraid," the woman said. "My name is Charlotte. Welcome to Thornton Hall."

* * *

Rose had to hold back a snort. "Welcome?" she said instead, eyebrow rising. "You throw things at us, try to kill us with swords, lock us in a room and kidnap us? Is that your way of saying welcome?"

"Now, now," Charlotte said, smiling mysteriously. "You were never in any real danger. We were just having a bit of fun... It's been so long since anyone alive has visited. But it's no fun if you're not scared. Since you won't provide us with entertainment, won't you join in on ours?" She extended a hand towards Curly. "Care for a dance?"

Without thinking, Rose stepped between them, reaching back around him protectively with her free hand. "Sorry, he's not interested in dancing with ghosts," she said. Even if he was interested, which he probably was, he was not allowed to in this case, because Rose did not trust this Charlotte more than she could throw her. Which would be not at all, since she was incorporeal.

* * *

With a gentle tug that masked his own irritation and wariness of the lady of ghostliness in front of them, Curly pulled his friend back so they stood shoulder-to-shoulder (well, more like arm to shoulder, considering the height difference), and put on one of his cheeriest smiles, though it fell short without his usual good mood behind it. "Thanks for the offer, though." How was he supposed to dance with a ghost anyway? His hands would just pass right through her, wouldn't they?

Not that he wanted to dance with a ghost, of course, but the logistics of such distracted him momentarily.

"Actually, if you could just point us in the direction of the way out," he said, "we could get out of your… hair and you could get back to your party."

'Charlotte' had retracted her hand, folding it into her other at her waist, and for a moment the spirit simply looked at them, blank-faced. It lasted just long enough for Curly to start feeling fidgety before she tossed her head back and laughed, making the prince jump.

"Come now!" she said, smiling once more. "How could I let you leave when you have only just arrived?" She raised her hands, clapping twice with just the fingers of her left hand to the palm of her right. One of the twirling ghost couples—more transparent than their lady-in-red—drifted towards them. "Just one dance, my dears. Then perhaps we can see about your request."

"Oh, no, really, we'd rather just…" Curly started, watching the ghosts get closer with a feeling of unease. They hadn't stopped dancing, moving across the floor in sweeping turns, until, just as he was trying to protest, the two figures spun right into him and Rose.

There was a rush of cold, and the teen closed his eyes against the nauseating sight of two see-through bodies passing through his and Rose's—only to snap them open again when his body moved of its own accord. Horror filled him as he, through no thought or feeling of his own, turned to Rose and she to him, their hands and bodies fell into the starting pose of a simple waltz.

"Really, I must insist," Charlotte said, smiling beatifically at them as his feet moved, one, two, three, spin, Rose following him perfectly, clearing as possessed as he. "Dances are much more fun when the living join us." One, two, three; spin, and he caught a glimpse of the ghost gliding away, already in the arms of another spirit as she joined the dancing couples.

Turning his head (which, blessedly, he still had control of), he looked at Rose, blinking when he realized that her clothing had changed—or, no, not changed. The pink ball gown of ghost possessing her was superimposed over her own clothing, swishing with their movements, but he could still see her cardigan underneath. A glance down revealed the same effect on his own body, much to his consternation. His lips twisted into something half grimace, half smile as he raised his eyes back to the princess's as the two ghosts continued to dance using their bodies.

"Poltergeists, huh?"  _How do we get out of this one?_

* * *

His hand was cold.

Curly and cold somehow did not compute in her brain, and it felt very much like she was dancing with a stranger. Usually that would have been only mildly unpleasant, she had done it before, but the fact that it  _was_ Curly, and that this dance was absolutely  _forced_ , made her want to just run away, and every second of it was awful. If his face was only half a grimace, hers was a deep frown.

"This," she said nodding towards Lady Charlotte, "is not a poltergeist. Something more is going on here. Something… unsettling."

It was the way the other ghosts obeyed her that was strange. Why would you do what someone else tells you to if you're dead? Unless… she had power over them somehow? Or maybe they were her servants when they were alive? Had they all died at the same time? This many ghosts in one place was unheard of, except in massive tragedies. Rose hadn't heard of Thornton Hall before, and she was sure she would have had there been a death count this high. Her eyes lingered on the dancing couples.

"They aren't laughing anymore, are they?" she whispered to Curly. "It's like they're… afraid of her."

* * *

Curly barely kept himself from swearing. "Great," he muttered instead. "Just great. What do other ghosts fear?" Because it was probably something they should be afraid of as well.

The ghosts continued to spin them in the steps of the waltz, the sensation of not being in control of his own body so foreign and  _wrong_ that there was no way to ignore it. And the  _cold_. It had him gritting his teeth to keep from shouting at the ghosts to  _get out_. Like that would work. The only option was to wait out the dance.

"Think she'll actually let us go?" It felt like a stupid question, but Rose knew more about ghosts than he did. She had greater insight.

* * *

Rose's face softened, and her gaze met his. "Even if she did let us go… Do you think we should?" Yes, those ghosts threw things at them and messed up her hair and made silly faces at them in the mirror, but… no one deserved to be trapped in this place and obey another's will. "I want… I want to help them.

"I know," she added quickly as they made another turn, "that they're annoying and they bugged us, but… they never harmed us. And… I don't know. Even if this Charlotte has had her fun with us… I don't want to leave them like this."

The problem with that was that it wasn't going to be easy. Charlotte was obviously a powerful ghost, meaning that they had very limited options. One was an exorcism, of course, but she didn't know how to perform one, and doubted very much that Curly did. The other things they could do… were complicated. If Charlotte had unfinished business they could get that done for her, but it could be literally anything, and it could turn out to be impossible. Or, and this was actually the  _easier_ option, they could destroy her tether. Her anchor, the thing that kept her in the mortal realm. This at least narrowed the field, because the object was likely to be in the house.

* * *

Until Rose brought it up, it had not occurred to Curly that they could (or should) help the ghosts. Perhaps the information that the other ghosts seemed afraid of Lady Charlotte was too new. But once his friend suggested it, he immediately felt the same. It wasn't in his nature to turn his back on someone in need. He had to try, at the very least, to help them.

"Got a plan?" Rose knew ghosts; Curly's only experience with them was today and scary movies. He would have to follow her lead on this little adventure.

* * *

Rose nodded, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. "I do."

Her eyes darted around the ballroom. Charlotte was dancing with another ghost a fair way off, and the other spirits seemed too preoccupied with keeping her happy. "Here's how we're going to do it," Rose started quietly. "If she's what I think she is, she will have some sort of object keeping her here. It'll be something that belonged to her in life, something with sentimental value. Once we know what it is, all we have to do is break it."

The tether was usually the source of the ghost's spiritual power, and it was where said power came from. Depending on the memories connected with the object… it could make them very dangerous.

The piano played its last few drawn out notes, and the dance ended. After only a few seconds of silence a new melody filled the room as Rose and Curly came to a stop at the exact same spot they had started. When she finally had control over her own body back, Rose immediately stepped away from Curly, leaving some space between them. After that utterly unpleasant experience, she was eager to let go.

The two spirits left their bodies and hovered before them for a moment, allowing her to have a good look at them for the first time. Her eyes lingered on the woman, a young, pretty brunette, who watched her with wide, scared eyes, holding the man's hand in her semi-transparent fingers. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming what Rose thought were the words ' _Charlotte's room_ '. Just as the princess was about to ask something, the scarlet silhouette of their host gracefully glided towards them once again.

The two ghosts spun into another dance, blending with the other dancing forms.

"Follow my lead," Rose whispered in Curly's direction, though she did nothing to shorten the newly formed distance.

"Enjoying the festivities?" Charlotte said merrily, stopping right before them.

"Immensely," Rose said, contorting her face into one of those polite smiles she was used to giving at royal functions. "I hadn't noticed your exquisite paintings until I was spinning around the room. Was that Monet's  _Woman With a Parasol_?"

For a moment, the ghost seemed completely taken aback. "It is," she said after several seconds, her voice tinted with pleasant surprise. "Are you a fan of his work?"

"I'm more interested in the historical value," Rose replied honestly. "This one was said to have been lost a century ago… along with some other paintings. I don't' suppose they all ended up here…?"

"They did," Charlotte said with another one of her mysterious smiles. "Would you like to see them?"

Success! This was going a lot better than Rose had expected. This was good, because she didn't really have a plan past this point. It made sense for Charlotte to be interested in art if this was her house, and if the ghostly dancer was to be believed, it was. What Rose was really hoping for was access to Charlotte's room.

"We would!" Rose said enthusiastically with a meaning look towards Curly. "We would be happy to stay for a very long time if we get to admire them all."

Charlotte smiled. "Follow me," the ghost said, floating away. Whatever imitation of life had filled the room seemed to leave with her – the piano slowly grew silent, the ghosts sank into the floor or the walls, and the lights dimmed, then went out, with the exception of a few candle flames, which followed Charlotte out the door, hovering around her like fireflies in a dark summer's night.

* * *

So some of the movies he had watched that featured ghosts had a grain of truth to them? Nice. He still couldn't consider it to be educational material, but at least it wasn't totally useless. If the dance hadn't wound down, the ghosts ( _finally_ ) left their bodies, and Charlotte hadn't pounced on them again, Curly probably would have asked about salt and iron. As it was, he could only follow Rose's lead and be glad that he trusted her to know her stuff.

But… art? Did it have to be art? Sure, as the prince of Corona, he had been tutored in art—but he had gotten out of those lessons as quickly as possible and retained next to nothing from them.  _At least Rose seems to know what she's talking about_ , he thought as he plastered on as interested a smile as he could muster and trailed their ghostly host out of the ballroom. He certainly couldn't contribute to a conversation about art. Look at it? Sure. Talk about it? Nope.

Flexing his fingers and rubbing his hands together discreetly in an attempt to warm them, Curly glanced at Rose and eyed the careful distance she had put between them. He wasn't sure why she had done it, but in case it was something to do with the ghosts, he wasn't about to breach the distance and mess up whatever she was trying to do. Damn, he was cold.

They moved through unfamiliar hallways and up another flight of steps, the pricks of flames dancing around Charlotte the entire time. This time, the shadows didn't jump at them, the walls didn't appear to melt, and the portraits didn't show demonic eyes following them. Curly took that to mean Charlotte was done letting the poltergeists play with the two living humans, and almost appreciated it—but that was an easily squashed feeling. All he had to do was think back to the dance and being unable to control his own body.

Down another corridor, the spirit halted at the only door on the left side and turned to them with a smile. "I like to keep them close to me," she said. With a wave of her hand, the door opened smoothly and Charlotte drifted inside, her flock of fire darting ahead to light the room as they entered. Curly suppressed a grin when he saw it was a bedroom; he had caught what Rose's possessor had mouthed. Now it was just a matter of figuring out  _what_ in this room was keeping her here.

Then they could break it.

Curly's eyes wandered the room, not sure what he was looking for but hoping to recognize it when he saw it. A vase, a hairbrush, bits of ribbon and other small objects scattered across the various surfaces around the room. Paintings hanging on the walls. A mask, a book, a perfume bottle—wait a second. That mask… it was hard to tell from across the room, but it looked… like it might be the same one Lady Charlotte wore.

Too bad the ghost herself was between him and getting a better look at the object that might be tying her to this world. Subtly, he tried to draw Rose's attention to the mask.

* * *

The collection of paintings adorning the room was outstanding. Rare pieces scholars had thoughts lost, from still lifes to landscapes to portraits, every piece was exquisite. Rose could not believe her eyes.

"You seem to have a preference towards portraits," she noted, slowly moving from painting to painting, following Charlotte's ghostly form. "And especially those of Madame Monet."

"Ah, he has always been a weakness of mine, I admit…" Charlotte said airily. "And his wife, of course, was his favourite model. I do love his other paintings as well, the brush work in his landscapes in particular can be—"

The spirit droned on, but Rose had stopped listening because Curly was trying to get her attention. She followed the direction he was throwing those meaning looks at and spotted the black mask atop the vanity. Her blue eyes darted back to Charlotte.  _The exact same mask._

"Which one is your favourite?" the princess asked their host.

"Mine?" Charlotte asked, delighted. "Ah, it's been so long since I've gotten to talk about my paintings! I feel as if they're all my favourites now. Although in life, I was partial to this one." She drifted towards the left wall, and Rose shot a look at Curly, then nodded towards the mask. The ghost stopped in front of a tall oil painting, another portrait depicting another woman in a red dress.

Rose quickly drew even with her and asked more questions in order to distract her. "Another Monet, isn't it? Why is that one your favourite?"

"Oh, sentimental value…" Charlotte droned, her transparent fingers brushing over the dusty canvas. "My father bought it for me when I was fourteen…  _La Femme en robe verte_ …"

_Green?_ Rose thought. That was odd. Why was it named  _The Woman in the Green Dress_?

* * *

While Rose effectively distracted Charlotte, Curly moseyed around the room, pretending to look at the other paintings, but really edging his way closer to his target. Unfortunately, his passage stirred some of the copious dust in the room, tickling his nose. For the moment he managed to suppress the urge to sneeze.

Once in front of the armoire, it was a simple matter to pick the delicate black mask, definitely a match for their ghost's. Keeping his back to the two to hide his actions, Curly turned the mask to the concave side faced him and applied pressure to either side. A quick glance over his shoulder showed Charlotte fully engaged with Rose in front of a picture of a woman in a red dress—he just barely caught the name and wondered the exact same thing as Rose. Why was the color wrong?

But his nose was itching and the need to sneeze out the dust motes became overpowering. With entirely too much noise, Curran sneezed, snapping the mask in his hands at the same time. Shaking his head and wrinkling his nose, he looked at the broken mask in his hands, then back toward the pair turning his way. The pair that still included a ghost. Who did not seem to be vanishing, or disappearing, or whatever ghosts did when their tie to the mortal coil had been broken. Nope.

"God bless… what do you have there?" Charlotte said. Behind the mask, you could just barely tell when the ghost started to frown, and Curly had a terrible feeling that he had chosen the wrong object.

"Uh… nothing," he said, turning quickly and tucking the broken mask out of sight behind his back, plastering a big smile on his face. "Nothing at all. You were saying? About the painting?"

Charlotte was obviously not fooled, as his 'Aunt' Cassandra had never been when he tried that tactic on her, and in the time it took Curly to blink, the lady was beside him, the two halves of the mask out of his hands, a furious scowl forming on what he could see of her face.

"Are the two of you… trying to  _banish_ me?" the spirit said, looking between the two of them.

Wide-eyed, Curly looked to his friend. "Rose?" Oh, he had fucked up. He had fucked up royally.

* * *

Rose's eyes widened in fear. She wanted to get to Curly, but Charlotte had moved between them, her semi-transparent form glowing with unearthly light. The candle flames which had followed her from the ballroom gathered around her, swirling in a bright, ghostly pyre as her very image seemed to swell with anger.

" **YOU'RE TRYING TO BANISH ME?!** " she echoed again, her voice unnaturally loud and distorted.

"Curly!" Rose shouted. " _Run!_ "

Charlotte screamed, and the very walls of the house shook. Rose ducked to avoid the wave of power emanating from the enraged spirit, but the force knocked her to the ground, leaving her breathless. She tried to sit up, and her gaze fell on the painting. The painting, which was now burning.

Rose's eyes darted between Charlotte and the blazing portrait, and it was suddenly so incredibly obvious. To her horror, the ghost advanced towards Curly, fire burning all around her. Rose desperately looked around for something, anything sharp enough to damage a painting, but the dusty floor was barren. And then it hit her – the shoes! Quickly slipping off her precious Manolo Blahniks, the princess scrambled to her feet and jabbed the heel straight into the woman in the red dress. Instead of ripping through canvas, it sank into something soft and squishy. Charlotte gave out an ear-splitting shriek and stopped in her tracks. Rose stabbed the painting once again, drawing the heel down across the picture with a grunt. Red paint poured over her hands, warm and sticky, but she pulled her weapon out one last time, piercing the woman's head.

An agonizing wail reverberated through the empty house, and the windows burst.

* * *

Curly bolted when Charlotte screamed, trying to get away from her, trying to get to Rose so they could both get the hell out of there, but he barely made it a few steps before Charlotte's power threw him down to the hardwood floor, which the dusty coating cushioned not at all. The stuff puffed up around him, further irritating his nose and making it harder to get his breath back so he could move.

Coughing, he scrambled and flipped around so he could see the fiery spirit bearing down on him. He could feel the heat pouring off of her, even as he shuffled backward, eyes wide. Another flip and shove had him back on his feet, slipping as he tried to make it to Rose who was… stabbing the painting with her shoe?

Behind him, Charlotte shrieked, and Curly spun to watch her stop, the fire around her flaring bright and hot. He heard Rose grunt, heard the shoe stab into the painting again, and the ghost writhed, screaming in furious pain. Once more came the sound of stabbing and this time Charlotte stilled, a sound of agony so loud it forced Curly to cover his ears leaving her. Then, the light of her fire began to fade, slipping away one ember at a time, until more quickly and yet slower than he might have expected, they were left mostly in darkness, only a little light slipping through the shredded curtains from outside.

"Well… that was more dramatic than Supernatural." Turning away from the spot where Charlotte had last stood, Curly blinked and reached out for Rose, his hand touching her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

* * *

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Rose jumped. When she turned around and saw it was Curly, she unwittingly took a step back, flattening against the ripped painting.

"Er, ah, well, I..."  _Get a grip_ , she told herself.  _It's Curly. It's just Curly._ "I'm fine, thank you." Then she looked down at her stained hands. "I know I must look like a serial killer at the moment, but it's not blood. It's paint." As she said that, the red faded away, both from her hands and from the painting, leaving the dress in the portrait green.

A whisper sounded in the silence. Then another. And another. Wind stirred in the room; Rose's skirt wound at her hips and stray locks of hair twirled around her face. Spirits, shining brightly with ethereal light, appeared in the room one by one, crowding it. The whispers intensified, and the ghosts took flight, circling the two living teens. The rush of air made Rose almost unknowingly move closer to Curly, and her hand somehow ended up in his again.

When the whirlwind died down, a single ghost remained, smiling softly at them. The girl in the pink gown.

"Thank you," she said. "My sister's temper can flare up rather badly. I am glad you did not join our dance permanently."

Rose's fingers gently tightened on Curly's.

"What... happened here?" she asked quietly.

The ghost's smile faded somewhat. "Charlotte's eighteenth birthday was supposed to be spectacular. A grand event. People were coming from all over the world to celebrate... We hadn't even tasted the cake when the fire spread. No one ever knew how or why... And by the time we realised, it was too late. Charlotte never got over it. Once we were on the other side, she wouldn't let us go. We had to entertain her and keep the party going, even is most of us were ready to move on. But now, finally... it's time to go home."

The door of the room silently swung open behind her, and she beckoned them to follow. Rose did so, readily, the soft, pearly light of the girl lighting the way. Along a dark corridor, down a grand staircase and through a big, oaken door.

The girl's dance partner was waiting by the exit. "Thank you for freeing us," he said, smiling brilliantly. "And sorry about the sword fight. I always wanted to try it when I was alive," he added towards Curly, but the grin on his face did not match the apologetic tone of his words. "The town is that way," he said, pointing to the right. "Head north and you'll reach it within the hour." Then the ghost looked to the girl. "Ready to go?" he asked, extending his hand to her.

She smiled and took it. "With you, I'd go anywhere." Then with one last look to Rose and Curly, she said, "Farewell," and the two ghosts faded into nothing.

Rose finally stepped outside and felt the warm sun on her skin.

"Oh, sunshine!" she said happily, smiling and reaching up with her free hand as if she could touch the sun. "How I've missed you!"

* * *

Stepping out of the house with Rose, Curly laughed with relief at the sun, bright enough to make him squint, warm for February, and the deep breath of fresh air he was able to take. "Thank goodness Charlotte's sister was nicer than Charlotte." Tempted to flop on the ground just to feel the grass on his skin, he looked to the right, north, and smiled. "Even gave us directions."

Looking back to Rose, his smile slipped a bit, remembering the moment he'd touched her shoulder and then she backed away from him, though he was sure she had recognized him. "Are you sure you're okay? You…" but Curly wasn't sure how to ask her what that had been about. Especially since whatever it was apparently had gone away; her hand was warm in his again. Shaking his head, he decided it was irrelevant and smiled once more. "Never mind.

"Let's get a move on. It's gonna be a long walk."


	19. Chapter 19

Looking back to Rose, his smile slipped a bit, remembering the moment he'd touched her shoulder and then she backed away from him, though he was sure she had recognized him. "Are you sure you're okay? You…" but Curly wasn't sure how to ask her what that had been about. Especially since whatever it was apparently had gone away; her hand was warm in his again. Shaking his head, he decided it was irrelevant and smiled once more. "Never mind.

"Let's get a move on. It's gonna be a long walk." Taking a few steps in the right direction, Curly turned his head and asked, grinning, "Think those two were married? Seemed like fun people. Though he really did  _not_ know how to sword fight."

* * *

Sunlight and Curly's laughter — two things that were guaranteed to make Rose happy. Had he really been cold to the touch only minutes ago? Had he felt foreign, even for a second? It seemed impossible now. The clean air, the warmth of his hand, the open space — it all felt so wonderful that it made her want to laugh, to... to... to  _run_. She wouldn't, of course, running was not lady-like, but the fact that she had the urge alone was strange.

She laughed before answering his question. "Aren't they a bit young-looking to have been married? Though... I suppose I'm the last person to pass judgement on marriage age." Another chuckle escaped her. "Rogers fully expects a nursery to be set up by the time I'm twenty. He's even picked out the wallpaper and everything."

Rogers was fussy and stuck up, but she was rather fond of him. Even if he did want to turn her into the 'perfect princess' Rose knew it came from a place of caring - The Royal Advisor was a long-time family friend. He just wanted what was best for her.

* * *

The tension that had plagued Curly since that first creepy whisper finally left him as they walked away from the house. He felt like himself again—relaxed, happy. Thank goodness for Rose. If he had landed in that house with any of his other friends, he wasn't sure they would have made it out. Well, maybe Moe or Larry knew something about actual ghosts, but maybe they didn't. Either way, he was really glad Rose had known what to do.

And that Charlotte's sister and her beau had been willing to show them out.

Laughing, Curly said, "Hey, different times. Actually, could you tell how long ago they might have died? I'm not so great at placing period clothing."

But at the Rogers comment, he gaped before laughing. "Please, don't take this the wrong way, but Rogers is crazy. How can he expect you to be married by twenty, let alone having babies? That's just… ridiculous."

Some of Rose's anecdotes about the fuddy-duddy who had such a big role in raising her were actually hilarious. Others were a little hard to comprehend. Curly had never met an actual person like the one Rose described.

* * *

"Late Victorian, judging by their clothes," Rose said, her eyes following a sparrow fluttering overhead. Sunshine still penetrated the canopy of leaves above them, and the rough forest road crunched under their shoes as they walked.

"Well, he's not wrong," she said casually, lingering on some of the flora they were passing by. That there was a raspberry bush! She pulled Curly a bit out of the way and let go of him, gathering some in her palm. "I am supposed to marry soon. My dad and Rogers have this folder with potential suitors compiled for me, it's this thick." She held her fingers about seven centimetres apart. "I haven't gone through all of it yet. I really should soon, though; I'm supposed to announce an engagement on my eighteenth birthday. There's not that much time left to decide."

She turned to Curly, smiling, and held up the berries for him. "I've never picked wild berries before. It's oddly fun."

* * *

Following her willingly to the berry bush, he cast a surreptitious look at the roots for snakes before remembering that it was February. Which led him to briefly wondering how there were ripe berries in late winter. But Rose's words blew those thoughts completely out of his head.

He gaped at her and got a berry popped in his mouth for his astonishment. Chewing quickly, he almost choked on the tiny seeds trying to swallow, but a second, harder swallow cleared his throat. Opening his mouth again, he had to hold up a hand to keep her from giving his another one before he could talk.

"What?" She couldn't be serious. But Rose didn't joke like that. But that's just insane! How could anyone expect her to be married, having children, by the time she was twenty! Admittedly, his parents married young, but that was because they were ridiculously in love and meant for each other. And they didn't have him for several years after they got married. There was no rushing into anything between them.

Rose, on the other hand, was apparently supposed to pick someone from a group of guys her dad and the royal advisor had put together? "Please tell me you're joking, Rose."

* * *

"I know, I know," she said lightly, popping a berry in her own mouth. "It's a bit fast. But it's the way the political climate is in Oloria right now. I'm the last of the bloodline; I have to continue it as soon as possible to placate the nobles." She took another and started down the path again. "Right at this moment, the court is very unstable. As the last of the line, it would be easy for someone to get the bright idea to assassinate me, since in that case my father would have to handpick a successor and his hand can be forced. Or forged." Rose swallowed, then continued the calm explanation. "Our more loyal supporters, on the other hand, are getting worried by this possibility, because their position is secure only as long as our family is on the throne. Their choices are between supporting an usurper to guarantee their own safety or... risk getting replaced if or when a new person comes in power. If I have children, all of these risks lessen considerably. So... I have to get married as soon as possible. I've always known that."

Rose ate another berry. "I've never had Andover berries before. Do they taste a bit too sweet to you? Maybe it's just me."

* * *

"I didn't really taste it," Curly answered, flabbergasted by the casual way Rose explained a situation that was essentially blowing his mind and then went back to talking about berries.

He couldn't really wrap his head around the world Rose was describing, the world she had grown up in, the world she lived in when she wasn't at Andover. Corona, despite the events surrounding his mother's kidnapping and return, was extremely stable. The court was happy, the people were happy, and no one felt the need to put pressure on Curly or his parents to get married, or have more kids. Sure, the stability of Corona didn't negate the issues Rose cited as why she had to marry, but it meant those concerns did not dictate his life.

Besides. The people of Corona were gaga for love. So there would be no arranged marriages in Curly's future.

Rose, on the other hand... "That's nuts. Your country is nuts. No, wait, sorry." He waved a hand as if to wipe away his words and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, trying to push back his initial reaction and not insult his friend's country. It didn't really work. "No, yes, well, no—not your country. Your court. Is insane. Who does that kind of thing anymore? It's…" Curly took a deep breath, attempting again to calm himself. "It doesn't work like that in Corona. I don't… I don't get it. How you can just… accept that. How your people can expect that of you. It just… doesn't compute."

Since he couldn't stop saying negative things about Rose's homeland, he grabbed a couple of berries and shoved them in his mouth.

* * *

Rose laughed. Curly was kind of cute when he started babbling like that.

"I can see how it would seem odd to you. Don't worry; I understand that it's cultural difference." It was different for him, and she knew it. Her parents could not have any more children. The future of Oloria lied solely with her, but she knew other royals had it a bit better. "It's not the same in Corona. Your parents are young, they might still have more kids, and this keeps your court feeling relatively safe. You probably have some close cousins somewhere the crown can go to, too. These things don't apply to me." She laughed when he tried to chew that whole fistful of berries. "Don't just shovel food in your mouth like that, you'll choke!"

A robin in a tree they passed chirped happily. Rose was momentarily distracted by its song, but did kept walking and added, "I accept it because... well, I've never questioned it. It makes sense to get married fast to fulfil your duty, doesn't it? I don't really mind it, I guess. I have an obligation to my people, and I have to rise to it. Plus, I do still get to pick, that folder has over thirty dossiers."

* * *

Curly didn't really see it as a cultural difference though. He saw it as Rose's life being fucked up. But he couldn't really say anything, given he was actually having trouble with the berries in his mouth. Rose was right—they tasted sweeter than any raspberry he had ever eaten.

Eventually, though, he managed to swallow and talk again. "It doesn't make sense to me." In fact, the whole idea was surprisingly distressing. His friend being forced (and no matter how willing Rose seemed, that was the way it was in his mind) to marry someone. "Narrowing it down to thirty people—that someone else has picked out—how can you find a good life partner like that? How are you supposed to find love? I mean… there's the whole world of people out there to choose from, and you have to pick someone out of these guys your dad and Rogers have decided on? It's nuts!"

The birds, the pretty day, the fact that they had just escaped a haunted house—it all kind of fell to the wayside as he tried to wrap his head around Rose's situation. "I can't believe they can make you do this kind of thing. It should be against some kind of law. Twenty is too young to be married and having kids. State of the royal bloodline or not." Curly made a face and popped more berries in his mouth, fewer and slower this time so he didn't choke and it wouldn't take so long to chew and swallow. "Insane."

* * *

Rose didn't really mind that he thought it was insane — it was just because he wasn't used to the idea. To her it seemed unlikely the court of Corona had never schemed against the royal family; every court had at least a few power-hungry Lords. Curly didn't seem like the type to get involved in political intrigue, though, and he had a tendency to see the best in people. Perhaps he simply didn't know.

The fact remained, however, that their situations just weren't comparable. His protests would be perfectly reasonable... if they were about anyone else.

"Love?  _Me?_ " Rose said, half surprised, half amused. Then she laughed and took his hand, turning the palm up to give him the last remaining berries. "No, I don't think that will happen. I wouldn't know how to love."

She let go of him then and glanced at his face. "Oh, don't give me that look, Curly. I have changed a lot since we met, but I barely understand  _friendship_. Love... I think that's a little over my head. Besides... I know your parents are in love and all, and you've grown up seeing that, but it's not a thing that happens every day. Some- _most_ people never even find love. What are the odds I ever will?" He still had that expression. Her smile faded. "It's okay, Curly, really," Rose said softly, growing serious for a moment. "I don't care who I marry; these Lords are all the same to me, and Dad would never put an abusive person in that folder. It will be okay."

* * *

Curly quite literally froze at her words. He was left staring at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, while she put the rest of the berries in his hand.

She thought love was 'a little over her head'? She wasn't the least bit concerned with the prospect of marrying someone she didn't even love?

"Your parents are in love," he said, half just to say something, half because she had brought up his parents. "I mean, they've got the whole fairy tale love story thing going on, too." His mind just wasn't wrapping itself around the fact that Rose not only didn't think she would find love— _and was totally okay with that_ —she also wasn't even going to  _try_.

Love equated to happiness. Love was beautiful and at the center of his world. Had been since he was born. It was the foundation that he was built on. Love and compassion, happiness and light and laughter.

That Rose just threw away the very  _idea_ of it…

He knew Rose sometimes felt he thought of her as a project—they'd had more than one conversation about it—but this was the first time he had actually felt like there was something about Rose he should actively try to change. Her perception on the role of love in her life, in her future marriage, baffled him, and he resolved in that moment to change it.

Love was important. Rose was important. She should have love in her life and she should have a lot of it. If she wasn't going to make sure she did, well, it was Curly's job as her friend to do so for her.

With that in mind, he closed his mouth and wiped whatever look was on his face off. "I'm going through that folder when we get back. It's not enough to just not have abusive people in there. I'm gonna see if any of those lords actually suit you." He snorted. "If any of them do. And I'll probably do a better job of it than your dad or Rogers—I know you on a whole different level than them."

Pleased, though not entirely, with this course of action, Curly tossed a few more berries in his mouth, arranged them around his teeth, and gave Rose a berry-stained smile.

* * *

Rose tried very hard not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness that was Curly, and at the end she managed something halfway between a smile and a pout.

"You goofball," she said, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably. "And yes, my parents are in love," she confirmed, "But we can't all have fairy tale happy endings. The world doesn't work like that. Besides..." Her eyes drifted unseeingly down the road. "My parents have told me about love. And what it's like. When you see him, my mother said, a part of you just... knows. And when you touch his hand it feels  _right_  somehow, like you were always meant to hold it. My dad said that... when you meet them, your very  _soul_  recognizes them." She looked back to Curly. "That's... I've never felt that. With anyone. And I don't think I ever will, if I'm honest. I've already met the entirety of the Olorian court, and a substantial number of people here, at the Academy, and none of them make me feel like this. Plus," she added in a lighter tone, cracking a small smile, "I only have a year and a half until I have to pick a suitor—I'm supposed to make an announcement on my eighteenth birthday. From there... only a year until the actual wedding. How,  _where_  would I find this love?" Rose shook her head lightly. "No, Curly. It's... just not in the cards for me. I don't think that I'm... capable of love."

It sounded like such a big emotion. Until very recently, Rose barely felt anything at all. Friendship she had learned, at it had been such an important breakthrough for her. But love... that was different. Besides, it required two people, didn't it? Who could ever love this uptight, prim and proper princess? She was too cold, too awkward, too much of a buzzkill. Unless someone loved her for her looks, which were indeed very nice. But then... that wouldn't be love, would it.

"You are free to look through the folder," Rose added nonchalantly. Then her eyes wandered to the ground and she said, rather hesitantly, "And I was... I was kind of hoping you might... come to the wedding? You, and Larry and Moe. I would be... it would be nice if you came."

* * *

Licking the berry-guts from his teeth and smiling again with a cleaner (though still stained) mouth, Curly replied, "You love it," with not a bit of doubt that his antics had drawn the reaction he wanted from Rose.

Her description of her parents' love reminded him strongly of the first time his dad had told him their love story and the conversation that had led up to. Shaking his head, he huffed a laughed. "Love comes in a lot of ways, Rose. It's not always like that."

Inspired by the memory, he added, "Sometimes it sneaks up on you and the realization is like being hit on the head by a frying pain." Taking her hand in his, he gave her a reassuring smile, despite the way the reminder of how long she had made him queasy. "Took three days for my parents—heck, it took months for Larry's—who's to say you can't find the love of your life between now and… having to get married?"

Squeezing her hand, though her hesitancy made his chest ache, Curly answered, "Of course we'd come. You're our friend." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, if we didn't come, how could we threaten your future-husband if he ever causes you the slightest bit of distress?"

"Oh, honestly," Rose said, gathering a clean bit of sleeve in her hand and reaching to wipe away the remainder of the berry stains from his face. If only she could to the same with her smile. "You are such a child."

"And," she added seriously, "Curly, some of those Lords are twice,  _three_ times your size! And age! Promise me you won't go around picking fights." She pictured, briefly, Curly going up against Lord Bounderby, Rogers and her father's favourite out of that folder, and frowned. "I think some of them might be packing quite the punch." Bounderby's fists were massive.

"And as for the other thing... you aren't listening. I'm not  _capable_ of love." She wondered if repeating it had any point at all. Stubborn as he was, Curly probably would just keep insisting. As for how long it took... "I don't really... know anything about it, to be fair. How it feels and how long it takes, so you could be right there. Have you ever...?" Her eyes wandered to him in a question she couldn't quite finish.

* * *

Laughing under his breath, Curly let her clean his face. The smile was worth being called a child. (Which wasn't much of an insult anyway, but he'd let her have it this time.)

"I did very specifically say 'we'," he argued, though he wasn't sure just how serious he was about the whole 'threaten Rose's future-husband' thing. Hopefully, by the time it came around, there wouldn't be any need to. Rose would be happily in love with whoever she was marrying and they'd all be on friendly terms anyway. That was an admittedly optimistic take on how it would all come out, but Curly was an optimistic sort of person and a firm believer in 'if you can dream it, you can do it'. "Larry, Moe and I are no slouches when it comes to all that stuff." He winked. "Plus, we're smart about it."

"Rose," he said, very seriously this time, "everyone is capable of love. Except people with certain mental disorders, which you most definitely do not have." Letting himself smile with that last bit, he swung their joined hands as they continued walking. "Nope. I have yet to experience the joys of romantic love. But I know it will happen. Like a frying pan to the head." He laughed.

* * *

How could be this carefree? How could he be so certain of something he's never even known himself? Rose was absolutely baffled. But he did indeed say 'we', and that 'we' included Larry, so she felt relatively save in knowing that there would be at least one voice of reason.

The frying pan analogy was again something very Curly-ish. What was it with him and frying pans?

"I hope it does happen," Rose said, sincerity ringing in her voice. "And that it doesn't leave you bruises," she added lightly, squeezing his hand just a little bit. The thought of Curly smiling softly at someone he loved made her feel strangely... light. Happy. She wanted that for him, and it surprised her how strongly she felt this. "Can I come to your wedding?" she asked, letting the joy spread and shine through her voice, her eyes, even her smile.

Then, suddenly, something caught her attention. It sounded like... music. Pounding, modern music, accompanied by distant voices. Rose looked at Curly hesitantly.

"Did we reach the town already? I don't... see anything ahead."

But the more she listened, the more she came to realise... that the sounds weren't coming down the road. They were coming from the trees on the right. And they were growing stronger.

Rose took a tiny step closer to Curly, holding his hand in both of hers.

* * *

"As long as you can get away from work," Curly quipped, smiling down at Rose. He understood, to some extent, the way she felt about her responsibility to her country, and it was something he admired about her. He just wished that it left her with more freedom to be her own person. It was hard to believe, sometimes, just how different their situations were, despite the many similarities.

Hearing the sound as well, Curly scanned the trees around them, seeking the source. Just as he was about to suggest that they should get going, having a feeling that they didn't want to meet up with strangers in a forest so close to a haunted house, another teen stepped out of the trees ahead of them, followed quickly by two more. The first, a blond guy in a loose-fitting blue and white tracksuit, didn't immediately see them, too busy looking over his shoulder and talking to the two following him. It was one of them—in a red and black tracksuit and baseball cap—that noticed the royals and, nudging his buddies, pointed them out.

Curly didn't like the grins that flashed across their faces.

"Well, well, well. What've we got here?" the blonde said, the third teen pulling a phone out of his pocket and shutting off the music. "Where'd you two come from?"

"Look like you might have had a rough time of it, eh?" said red-and-black.

"Look like a couple of rich kids, lost in the woods to me," the third—who was wearing a more normal looking hoodie and jeans combo—said, his eyes scanning Rose in particular. "Bet they go to that prep school."

"Bet they do," said the blond, grinning. "Got anything good on you, preppies? Phones, wallets—you know, anything  _valuable_ like?"

Yep, definitely didn't like those grins. Absolutely did not like the way hoodie-and-jeans was looking at his friend. Squeezing Rose's hand once in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, Curly stepped forward and slightly in front of her. "Nope," he told the three cheerfully, holding his arms out from his sides as if to show them he really didn't have anything—also further blocking Rose from their sight. "Left everything at home. Didn't even remember to put my phone in my pocket." Which was the absolute truth in his case, though he wasn't too sure what Rose might have on her. It didn't matter anyway. He wouldn't let them take anything from her.

The blond just looked at him for a moment, assessing. "Now why don't I believe that?" he said.

Shrugging, Curly reached into his pockets and turned them inside out, with not even a bit of lint to show for it. "Don't know why," he said. "I really don't have anything."

"How about her?" red-and-black said, jerking his chin toward Rose. "Bet she's at least got some jewelry."

Some of the forced cheer dropped from Curly's voice as he replied, "She doesn't have anything either."

But the blond was shaking his head, a little smirk on his face. "You two hold him, I'll check the piece." The three stepped forward, the blonde angling to go around the prince while the other two moved to grab him. Curly didn't hesitate, side-stepping the two and moving into the blond's path.

"You don't want to do that," he said, voice serious. The blond threw a smirk over his shoulder at his buddies, then pulled back his fist for a right hook. His fist didn't connect as Curly moved, ducking slightly to the side and bringing his palm up to strike a pressure point near the ribcage. As the blond dropped with the sound of breath being knocked out of his lungs, the prince chopped the side of his hand into another pressure point in the guy's neck. He didn't move when he hit the ground, gasping for breath.

For a half a second, the other two gaped at their friend and Curly. Red-and-black was the first to shake off the shock, rushing the brunette without thought. A slide of his foot tripped the goon, while another quick jab put him out of commission. Hoodie-and-jeans was right behind him, though he'd seen enough that the anger on his face had started to give way to trepidation by the time Curly twisted his arm up behind him and forced him to the ground. He struggled only until the prince twisted his arm higher, then subsided, whining at the pain.

Heart pounding with somewhat belated adrenaline, Curly looked up at Rose. "This one had the phone, right?" His voice shook a little, despite his best efforts at keeping it even. He looked back down at the teen he had pinned. "Mind if we borrow that?"

* * *

It all happened so fast.

One moment all sorts of escape plans had been going through her head at top speed—possibly hightailing it back to the house or losing them in the brush—and then they were advancing and Curly was mowing them down in about the time it took for her to blink. She'd known that he could take care of himself, she'd just never... seen him do it.

For a moment Rose just stood there, rooted to the ground, staring. It took a second for her to register what Curly was saying – borrow a phone, call to the Academy. One of the guys still wheezing for air in the dirt, and the other—the one that had thrown her a very unnerving grin—was completely unconscious. She approached him, cautiously, and knelt down. The edge of the phone was peeking form his pocket, and she retrieved it quickly. As she stood up his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, and she gave out a sharp, startled shriek.

"Let. Go!" she said, kicking him in the stomach. He instantly loosened his grip and curled into a ball with a grunt. "Oh, erm, I'm sorry," she said quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. "I—you just startled me, I didn't mean to hurt you..." Rose trailed off and backed away, closer to Curly, tearing her gaze away from the whimpering figure on the ground and turning them to the phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating only a second before punching in a familiar number.

It rang one. Twice. Then he picked up.

"Max? Hi, it's Rose. Erm, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Her eyes returned guiltily to the blond she had just kicked as Max assured her he wasn't doing anything important. Was he okay? Her fingers curled over the silver necklace around her neck. "Oh, good. Listen, can you do me a favour? I'm... Well, it's a long story, but I'm actually at Andover City with Curly and we don't have any money or any way of getting back to the Academy, and I don't really want to bother you, but if you could... come get us? We're... sort of stranded." Max showered her with questions, but she barely registered any of them. The fingers of her free hand reached back and undid the clasp of the necklace. "I don't really have time to explain right now, we're only borrowing this phone, but I'll tell you the whole story later, I promise."

Max sighed on the other end but said he'd be right there, and told her to wait for him at the Snuggly Ducking parking lot. Rose agreed, thanked him and hung up. Then she walked over to the blonde, just as he propped himself on one elbow, and knelt down again so they would be on more even ground.

"I'm really sorry I hit you. And that my friend hit you, too. Here, please take this as a way of apology." She held his palm and put the silver necklace in it, gently closing his fist around it. "It's not worth too much, but I hope you'll accept it. And thank you for letting us borrow your phone, we'd be truly lost without you." He stared at her mutely, too dumbstruck to say anything. Rose smiled at him, then stood up and walked over to Curly again.

"Let's go," she said. "Max said he'd give us a ride home from town."


	20. Chapter 20

Cathalina took up a booth in the back, trying to find the quietest place to work. Noise always irritated her when she was concentrating, except when she was the one who was joining in on the chatter or if it was her music that was playing. She had a very selective sensitivity to background noise. She was supposed to be meeting Rose here to study for a psychology exam they had coming up. A library would've been a more suitable, but a library didn't have food or drinks.

Crossing her legs Indian style inside the booth, she opened the flap of her messenger bag and started pulling out her supplies. The huge 10-effing-pound psych book, her binder with previous notes and room take take more and her purple pen—purple was her favorite color, and she only took notes in purple. She rummaged around in her bag until she located the yellow highlighter and did a happy wiggle in her spot when she found it. Surprisingly, she didn't think she forgot anything. She was always forgetting something and if it wasn't for her best friend, Elise, Cat would probably forget her head sometimes too. Eli was the organized one. Cat was more of the messy-but-knows-where-everything-is type.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Rose letting her know she was here before she grabbed the menu and started scanning it for what she was in the mood for.

* * *

Rose was always punctual. It was only natural for her to be, a ruler can't afford to be late for international negotiations and the like, so Rose had made it a point to never be late.

Just as she was nearing the door to the Snuggly Duckling, the place they agreed to meet for their study session, she got Cathalina's text. The princess was a bit uneasy to study with a partner, as she often saw such things useless – having someone next to you while you're trying to read could only ever be distracting. But still, there was the "people" part of the class, and people skills was definitely an area Rose had to work on if she ever wanted to become a good diplomat.

Quickly scanning the pub, Rose found Cat in the far end, already having her things out. A smile of approval graced her lips, as she had been a little worried about Cat's choice of location. Who studies in a pub?

"I'm here," Rose said, sliding down opposite the other girl and putting the bag next to her. "Are you… ordering food?" she asked, half-surprised, half-worried, eyeing the menu in Cat's hand. What if they stained the textbooks?

* * *

Cathalina didn't play around when it came to food. She was a bit of a foodie, she loved to eat, and she wasn't too picky of an eater. She'd try anything once and took pleasure in trying new things, seeing new places, and just trying to live life so when she died, she'd never have the regret of 'I wish I would've done_'. Which, only being newly 16, she already had her brush with death. She had yet to properly come to terms with it all yet. She didn't know how or where to even begin, but she did find herself skimming her psychology pages trying to diagnose and understand her... sperm donor's actions.

Her mind was carried off by those thoughts like it now often happened, so, she didn't hear Rose or see her until the girl was sliding in across from her.

She blinked, storing those thoughts away skillfully, and focusing back to the present. "Hi," she greeted, a small smile on her lips. That small smile was accompanied with a raise of a brow at Rose's tone. Cat looked down at the menu again and then back to Rose and nodded. "Yeah. It's not a proper study session if we're not eating. That would just be torture." Rose was a bit... stiff. Cat had a couple classes with her and saw it in the way she spoke, sat, walked, and even her very very put together look. She was never in wrinkled clothes, Cat had never seen her in sweat pants even though it was freezing outside, and her hair was always flawless. Cathalina thought the girl must be exhausted from all the prim and prep but Rose never truly showed it. As she said, Rose was very well put together.

* * *

Rose didn't argue the point. It was completely baffling to her how someone could consider eating a proper part of a study session but knew she probably couldn't change Cat's mind about it. It made more sense why they were in a pub now, at least.

"If that's what you want," Rose said with a slight shrug and reached into her bag, arranging her things neatly on the table. "What would you like to start with?" she added, immediately getting down to business, opening the textbook in her lap and clicking her pen. "Fromm and Adler will both definitely be on the exam… But we can go over Jung first, just in case."

* * *

Cathalina had a look about her that said, 'that's what I want'. She couldn't study without food. How could one think when they were hungry? If it wasn't for the pubs delicious food, then she would definitely need a power bar, an apple, and maybe some nuts to snack on while jotting down notes. Food, to Cathalina, was not only vital to survive, but it was also a social thing. Hang outs? Go get food and watch movies. Dates? Again, food and movies. Studying? Food and text books. Lazy day with your best friend? Food, Netflix, wine, and more food. She wasn't over obsessive with food but gluttony was the main of the 7 Deadly Sins she part took on.

She got a bit giddy, a smile lighting her eyes, when she thought Rose was joining her on ordering food but then she realized the girl was mentioning studying. "We can go over Jung's idea of Intro and Extroverts. I'm still trying to class myself there." She fit more into the extrovert theory because of her outgoing personality, but she was also reserved and liked to keep to herself. Though, the introvert was more due to her childhood upbringing.

She decided what she wanted on the menu and offered it to Rose. "You're not going to make me eat alone, are you?"

* * *

Rose eyed the menu apprehensively. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not hungry," she replied, trying to be as polite as possible about it. "I could help you do the Sixteen Personality test, if you want?" Rose offered, rummaging through her notes. "The results are more diverse with two scales anyway, and it builds on his basic ideas. I'm sure I had a copy of it…" Unlike most people, who kept a digital copy of all their school materials, Rose had it all on paper. She just couldn't read properly on a screen, her eyes began to sting after only a short while.

* * *

Cathalina thought about it for a second as Rose looking through her things to find the test. It wasn't like this test was going to determine if she was insane or not, it was just simply going to tell her a personality trait. Did she prefer the social life of being around people or did she prefer nights at home? She shrugged a shoulder at herself before nodding her head to agree for the test. "Alright." Plus, by doing the test, it would benefit them both in understanding the breakdown of why one is classed as an introvert and one is classed as an extrovert.

"Okay." She wasn't going to force food down Rose's throat but she made a mental note to order the bigger portions just in case Rose did decide later that she was hungry. She sat the menu down and waved over a waiter. "Hi," she greeted the server who was about 6'2 and had gorgeous brown eyes. "Can I get the large serving of your sampler trio?" It was fried cheese sticks, grilled turkey and bacon sandwiches, and boneless hot wings. "And two glasses of red wine. I don't care what brand or year, as long as it's good." She smiled at him and handed him her menu. For a brief moment, Cathalina checked out, latching onto the guy's thoughts and bringing him into a trance where she made him think she showed him both their IDs and they were of legal drinking age. Her power was very handy at times. Once she implanted that little 'dream' into his mind, he simply smiled, told her it would just be a moment, and walked away.

"You like red wine, don't you, Rose?" she asked even though the waiter was already gone to fetch the drinks. If Rose was going to psychoanalyze her, they were both going to drink. Plus, Rose looked like she could use one. Loosen up a bit.

Cat smiled sweetly at Rose as she picked up her pen and clicked it so it was ready to take down notes.

* * *

Too busy looking for the test, Rose spared only a short glance in the waiter's direction. She was very much a no-nonsense sort of person, and right now her mind was set to 'study mode'. Few things could bring her out of it, and food and boys were definitely low on that list. It was only when she finally found the pages she was looking for and slid the item list over to Cat that she even registered her question about the wine.

"I like it better than white," was her absentminded response. Then she finally looked up, the fact that the guy hadn't asked for ID sinking in. Rose shot a quick look over her shoulder. "What did you do? We're not legal!" she whispered, notes of panic sneaking into her tone.

* * *

Cathalina picked up the list from the table, looking it over, but was smirking because or Rose's innocent response. "I do too." White wine was good, paired with the right foods, but to drink it on its own, you really just had to be having a shitty day, and pink wines were just too fruity for Cat's taste palette. She didn't mind it, she'd drink it, but she'd always choose red first.

She was looking at the list, already answering some of the questions in her head, when Rose's rushed but whispered panic made her look up. "Today we are." Her voice was calm, buttery and poised. She set the notes back down, sliding them over to Rose so she could begin the quiz when she was ready, and leaned in just enough so she didn't have to raise her voice over a hushed tone. "I used my gift. I can make people see what I want them to see. Illusions." She gave a small shrug and leaned back into her seat, eyeing Rose. She was a firm believer that everyone was not the saint they posed themselves to be, and that went for Rose, too. She didn't see the girl wilding out at parties and sleeping with random strangers, but there has to be something she's not innocent to. She assumed Rose's parents were the one to give her wine since she knew enough about it to know which she preferred. Cat's parents were the first to give her wine, only at dinners and parties was she allowed a glass, and occasionally when she and her mother were hanging out together. Obviously, Cathalina drank more than just at parties or dinner. See. No one was a saint. "He's rather cute." She said, looking the direction of where the server went. "But his mind was extremely easy to get into."

* * *

Rose eyed her classmate incredulously. "You used magic on him?! That is deceitful, and it's against the law!"

And what if it spilled, it could stain her notes! Not to mention that alcohol wouldn't exactly help them concentrate. Why would someone choose to drink while studying? Were those activities counterintuitive?

It wasn't like Rose had never tasted wine – she had. On many dinners with various members of the court back in Oloria, wine would be an ever-present part of the proceedings. Her first glass she had at fourteen, though she was never allowed more than one per night. Still, it was always done under strict supervision, which was why Rose had never been drunk before.

While she was aware that a lot of kids in the Academy drank, and most were not of age, she still couldn't believe that Cat was doing it so openly. After the waiter brought it and left the table, Rose leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, "You have to send it back. What if someone catches us?"

* * *

Cathalina drew her eyes back to Rose after watching the waiter cork a bottle of wine and pour the delicious red contents of it into glasses. "Me being truthful wouldn't have gotten us wine, now would it?" No. It was a simple thought process. Use magic, get what you want. Don't use it, don't get it. "You're about to psychoanalyze me! I deserve wine for it. Plus have you ever had wine and motz sticks? It's bloody amazing."

Then she gasped as if Rose offended her with even the idea of sending it back. "I will not," she said firmly. She leaned forward again, her elbows now on the table with her arms folded just a couple inches from Rose. "Who is going to catch us?" she asked, lifting up a hand and casually gesturing to the rather empty pub. They weren't on school grounds, teachers were probably off grading homework, and they were the only kids from the academy here. She took a deep breath as she looked at Rose, seeing the urgency in her eyes, but was distracted for a moment by how nice she smelled. Figures. Prim and prepped princesses smelled amazing. But Cat loved perfumes, she had a whole shelve of them in her dorm, and when she wanted a different one, she snuck into Elise's room and used her's.

The waiter came back with the food platter and left it on the table. Cathalina closed her hand around a glass and slid it in front of Rose carefully. "Rose, come on. We aren't at school, and you look tense. Take a drink and loosen up."

* * *

"I am not tense!" Rose retorted, though she was, of course. "And I will not drink wine obtained through dubious means!"

Though the combination of it and mozzarella sticks did sound good… Her eyes glazed over to the platter, but she shook her head. No! She was not going to break the law, but she couldn't just report Cat either. It was only a glass of wine after all, but it could get her into a lot of trouble.

Too conflicted to know what the right choice would be in this situation, Rose let the waiter leave without remarking on anything.

"Just because we aren't at school, that doesn't mean we get to be irresponsible," she said finally, leaning back and opening the notebook to an empty page, preparing to score Cat's answers when she was done with them, then flipping the textbook open to the relevant chapter for reference.

* * *

Cathalina giggled lightly, "Okay." Which sounded more like a 'yeah right'. Rose was tense. It wasn't just from being put into this situation, either, she was just tense all the time. Very stiff, like she was scared she'd shift balance and step a toe out of some line of perfection that seemed to be deeply ingrained into her. She made Cat curious. Curious to know if this was how she would choose to be or if this was just a part she just continued to play because it was her duty as a princess. Cathalina had a part too. She wasn't an heir, so it was a bit more lenient. Her brother would get the title and rule someday for their parents, but that didn't mean her mother and father weren't strict with her. True, she was the baby and was coddled more than Maxon, but since she was a girl, she didn't get away with nearly the things he did. Damn gender bias.

"True, it wasn't the most honest and truthful way that I achieved the wine, but it was a rather savvy and skillful way." She lifted the glass up from the table and brought it to her lips, taking a sip right as Rose was lecturing her on being responsible. "I hardly think a glass of wine is irresponsible. It's not like we're sitting here doing a line of shots and dancing topless on the bar." She laughed but it was for a memory of actually dancing on top of a bar—not topless—and her big brother grabbing her and her best friend and hauling them away. Good times. "Don't you ever get tired of playing by the roles, Rose?" She was going to say Rules but Roles fit better. They were in roles. Pretty glass dolls that must be kept high on a shelf.

* * *

Without looking up, Rose made a derisive huff at that 'dancing on bars' comment. This was why people should not get drunk – they lose all sense of dignity.

However, Cat's last line got her attention. Rose's hand froze as it was reaching for her pen, and she looked at the other girl. Roles. Everyone had their roles to play, but hers was so… heavy. Her parents could never have another child. That meant that the royal bloodline had one single sprout on the last branch of the family tree – Rose. There was no hope of a future heir, no cousins or extended family to take the throne. Her death would mean certain war. Being raised with that possibility made abundantly clear to her, Rose had always felt an incredible amount of pressure to be a good Queen. Be responsible. Be courteous. Be dignified, graceful, poised. Be what you are supposed to be. And she had never even thought twice about it… until Curly. His comment had made her realise that she was not… real. She was what a princess was supposed to be. That was it. Rose, as a person, didn't exist.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to be real, she wanted to have a favourite meal, a favourite colour, an opinion on things. She wanted to be more than what she was supposed to be, do more than just what she was told to.

Her eyes darted to the wine. "One glass," she said, reaching for it. It tasted surprisingly good.

* * *

Cathalina knew her words had struck a cord in Rose by the way the girl was looking at her. She didn't say anything, she just simply got cozy again in her seat, leaning back against the cushion and bringing her wine back to her lips. A small sip was the amount of time it took of the pretty blonde in front of her to grab the wine glass and join Cat in drinking the—what did she say?  _Dubiously_  acquired wine. She laughed .

She swished the red liquid around in her glass. The trick was supposed to bring out the flavor of the wine but, honestly, it never tasted any different. It was more of a habit than an actual need to do so. When at home and enjoying a drink at dinner, she was supposed to enjoy it, savor it, and take her time. So, swishing the drink around in the glass just gave her some time to kill before she could take another sip.

When Rose picked up her glass and took a sip, Cathalina grinned as if she had conquered some great feat. "Cheers." She said, holding out her glass to clink it with Rose who was not playing a role, but doing something she wanted.

* * *

"That does not mean we are going to slack off," Rose warned before tapping her glass to Cat's and taking another sip. "Mm, what brand is this?" she said, looking at the red liquid in her hand. Then her eyes darted back to the books and she shook herself mentally.  _Concentrate_.

"Start filling out the questions," Rose said and tried to focus her attention on the descriptions of the different personality types. A voice in the back of her head told her to put the glass down now, but she stubbornly ignored it and raised it up to her lips instead, her eyes following the text.

* * *

Cathalina clinked her glass with Rose's and agreed, "We're not going to slack off." She was actually serious about her studies—most of the time. She could hunker down and get things done and that even meant when she was enjoying a glass of wine. She sipped before eyeing the drink in her hand. "I don't know the brand. I guess I'll ask the waiter when he comes back because I want a bottle for home. My sister will love it."

She sighed when Rose instead her filling out the questions. "Fine," she said, setting down her glass and grabbing her pen again. She looked at the test and began flipping the pages. "Sixteen questions?! This is sixty-four!" The answers were easy, just simple. Either you strongly to mildly agreed, or you strongly to mildly disagreed. She rolled her eyes at one of the questions she saw and picked up her wine with her left hand and began to bubble in the answers with her right. "Have you taken this quiz before?" She asked, making slight conversation as she circled a mild yes for working in fast paced settings.

* * *

Rose had to contain a chuckle to only a slight quirk of a lip at Cat's reaction. "It's a personality test; it has to judge you on four scales. How many questions did you expect?

"Of course I have," she replied, peeking over the book to look at her classmate's progression. Why would she not try something they were studying? "INTJ. I'd say that's pretty accurate."

She continued to read, occasionally taking a sip. She would have preferred doing so quietly, but it was rude to ignore your present company. "I didn't know you had a sister. Is she at Andover too?"

* * *

Cathalina sipped her wine again and but didn't lift her eyes from the test when she answered Rose. She could multitask. "I actually just found out she's my sister. My roommate, Elise. We share the same father." She tried not to have a bitter tone in her voice then. She was happy Elise was her sister, she loved her to the ends of the earth, she was truly her best friend... She just hated their father. "I was raised," from age 9 up, "by my adoptive parents. Prince Philip and Princess Aurora—er, Sleeping Beauty." Her mother hated the nickname, but that's what she was known far and wide as. Funny, in their home Cathalina was called Sleeping Beauty because she could sleep through a brutal storm. "I have a brother though them. His name is Max. He's a junior here."

The test had sixty-four to determine her personality. She honestly didn't mind because she was going through the questions rather quickly. Like do you think the world is built on compassion? Answer for her; No. No she did not believe the world was built on compassion. Yes, she believed in justice more than mercy. How can she think the world was built with compassion when she saw so much hatred? How could she believe in mercy when she always thought people who had done wrong were never truly tried for their crimes correctly. These were just personal, messed up experiences from her past that still influenced her thinking of the world today.

She paused on a question, having to picture herself in a social situation. When at a party, did she go tot he center of the room or to the side? Definitely to the side. She circled a bold yes.

Cat finished the last question and smiled, handing her test to Rose to assess. "Do you have any siblings?"

* * *

Elise… Westergard? That one girl Cat often hung around with? Rose had a very vague idea of who she was, only that they shared a few classes. Her father, that was a different story. As Rose was a bit of a history buff, and she had always thought it important to keep up with political affairs, she was keenly aware of Prince Hans' past and present crimes. She couldn't even imagine what it must be like to find out you were related to such a person. Not that it would change her opinion of Cat any.

Cathalina was actually one of the few girls Rose liked. So far, most of them seemed rather… hostile. But Cat was different. She seemed… friendly. Nice. Yes, she was improper and loud, like every other person in the Academy, though so far Rose had never seen any malicious intent from her. And that was more than she could say for the vast majority of the girls, or at least the ones the young princess had had the 'pleasure' to interact with. She wouldn't have agreed to come here for just anybody.

Rose didn't let any of those thoughts show, however, and kept a completely straight face as she listened, casually taking another sip. Then she chocked on the wine. "You're Max's sister?!"

* * *

Cathalina's face fell for a second as a raise of panic flooded her. Oh no. He didn't. Max did not sleep with Rose. If a girl did sleep with Max and later found out she was his sister, it was a similar response to what Rose just had. It didn't happen too often, her brother wasn't that much of a man whore, but it happened enough for Cat to know where this question would lead.

Just as quickly as the panic had kicked it, it was replaced with sillyness. How could she think Rose would get with Max? There was no way. But, she was still curious, because she wanted to know how Rose knew him. "Whatever he said about me, it's not true. Unless he told you about the time I broke his nose... that is true, but it was for a reason." Ever since they were kids, Cat and Max had went at it just like siblings did. What pissed her off more than anything was that she couldn't use her power against him and he would mock her and she got... violent. Max had a magic shield, but when it came to physical attacks, he could get hurt like any human could. She, occasionally, exploited that fact. And he would sit his gigantic ass on top of her and squish her or throw his shoulder like a child. She hated that he was so big... but she loved it too. "How do you know Max?"

* * *

Coughing to clear her windpipe, Rose finally set the glass down. Whoa, why had the liquid inside diminished so quickly? She took the sheet of paper Cat handed her and got to work on calculating the points each item brought on the separate scales.

"He hasn't really said much. I only knew that he had a sister, and that he's very protective of her. Er, you." He had made brief mentions of his sibling, but hadn't gone into too much detail. The way he talked about her, Rose had assumed her to be a lot younger. She should have known though, his last name was also Rhodes. How had she missed something so obvious?

"He's teaching me some self-defence and helping me with my archery skills," she explained, glancing to the textbook again. The maths would get a bit complicated with this one, but Rose thought she should be able to handle it – she was rather good at maths. Her hand unwittingly reached for the wine again.

* * *

Cathalina's almost asked Rose if she was okay, but when she got to work on her paper, she could tell she was. She smiled at the fact that Max gave off the impression of being protective, because he was. "He's a big brother. That's what they do." She reached over and grabbed a turkey and bacon sandwich off the platter and took a bite. It was so yummy. All the food here was yummy and so was the wine. Speaking of wine, she was running seriously low and so was Rose.

She silently waved back over the waiter as Rose focused on the answers. "He's really good. He can help you," she assured, not surprised that he was helping Rose. "He has a weak spot. If you can kick at his left knee at just the right angle, you can always knock him down fast. He injured it a few years ago. But, he's protective of that knee so it's hard to get at." She didn't know Rose's skill level, but she thought she should give the girl some pointers. Max was a big bear. He was hard enough as it was to take down so that little pointer wasn't going to make it extremely easy.

When the waiter saw her he started towards them, but she shook her head and just motioned for him to bring two more glasses. Cat was sneaky and knew if she asked for the glasses aloud, Rose would try to talk her out of it. So, by the time she finished grading the test, there should be a nice surprise waiting for her.

* * *

"Mhm," Rose agreed, writing down the percentage for the Introversion – Extroversion scale. "I don't really know much about fighting, but he seems like he knows what he's doing. I don't have any siblings," she added, remembering Cat's earlier question. "So I'm not really sure what the dynamic would be." She flashed a Cat a quick smile when she told her about Max's knee, though she wouldn't use that in their sparring matches. Even if he guarded it, it still felt like cheating a little. Then she raised the glass up again, without tearing her eyes away from her work, but noticed that the wine touched her lips much sooner than it should have.

Rose looked up and inspected it. It was somehow full again. She set it back down. "I said one." Leaving it on the table, the princess took a hold of the edge of the textbook instead to resist the temptation.

* * *

Cathalina reminded herself to leave a nice tip for the cutie waiter when she left because he was so skillful and coming to silently refill their glasses. She gave him a warm, slightly flirty—it was natural—smile before he walked away. She picked up her wine glass and breathed in the aroma, trying to figure out what it was without asking. It wasn't dry, it wasn't too oakey, and it didn't taste too sweet. Whatever it was, she loved it.

"Siblings are the biggest pain in your butt, but they are also the best." Some people might disagree, everyone had different relationships with their siblings, but Cat had a great one with both of hers. Elise was her best friend. She could tell her everything. She knew no matter what she said, Elise would be supportive but always be quick to tell her if she was stupid and making a mistake. Max was her protector. He was her stern watchful eye and yet he could be like a big teddy bear. They both played vital roles in Cat's life.

She was sipping her drink and looking away on purpose when Rose noticed the glass had become full again. She swallowed before her laugh escaped her. "You agreed that it's yummy and you like it! Enjoy it."

* * *

"That doesn't matter," Rose said firmly, jotting down some numbers in the notebook to help her calculations. "One was enough. Any more and we really will end up dancing on the counter."

That was an exaggeration, of course. No matter how drunk she got – not that she would ever allow herself to be – Rose would never do something that undignified. The thought alone was ridiculous.

"Sometimes I really wanted a sibling growing up," she mused, tapping the pen against the notebook. "If you have a brother or sister you don't have to be alone all the time."

* * *

Cathalina laughed and shook her head because one more glass of wine would not get her on the bar dancing.

"Aw," she cooed her approval of Rose's statement about siblings. It was true. You weren't alone... and sometimes it was annoying but her life without her siblings would be horrible. "I didn't have a sibling for the first nine years of my life." She shared because she did know what it was like to be alone. She didn't have siblings and she barely even had a mother. She was left alone with neighbours or most of the time, or just completely alone when her mother went to... work. "Then I was adopted and Max became my brother." She never talked about her childhood, not from before she was with her parents. It was just a dark place and she tried to visit it the least she could.

This time when she brought the glass to her lips, she didn't sip, she gulped. She was now halfway done with her second glass. "What is it going to take to get you to drink more?"

* * *

"Max seems like the kind of brother I'd want to have," Rose said, giving Cat another over-the-book smile. "It might be kind of nice to have someone look after me every now and then." For a change. She felt like Curly's babysitter at times. It was as if he was just hardwired to get into trouble. She'd had to shoot down more than one or two of his insane ideas, like flying on brooms or sneaking into off-limits places.

Rose threw a suspicious look at the glass. It was already loosening her tongue too much; she didn't usually go around mentioning her childhood. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and checked the time. They had been in here a little over half an hour. How did she drink one glass so quickly, usually it was enough to last her for hours! Sighing quietly, Rose left the phone on the table and returned to her calculations.

When her eyes moved back to her notes, she realised that, according to this, Cat had a 62% preference of Introversion. Sixty-two percent. The fact surprised her; the girl opposite her definitely struck her as more of an Extrovert. How odd.

The gulp from the other side of the table got her attention, and Rose looked to Cat again. "Nothing," she replied dryly when the other girl made her offer. "We came here to study, not to drink. That's enough for today."

* * *

Cathalina returned the smile to Rose. "Well, I'm sure now that you two are doing MMA together, you already gained a watchful brother." Max was just like that. When he cared, the guy cared deeply. It was one of his most redeeming qualities, in her opinion. Before Max even found out Cat and Elise were related, he had already became like a brother to Elise. Always checking on her and joking around. She liked that her big brother and her best friend got along so well.

She returned to sipping her wine instead of gulping it. She had a small pout on her lips when Rose turned her down for another glass. She wasn't into pressuring people to do what they absolutely did not want to do, but she didn't believe Rose really didn't want to have another glass. She believed that the girl was just saying no because she thought that was what she was supposed to say. Again, it all came down tot he roles and how they were taught to behave. Cat rarely—if ever— saw Rose outside of school. She didn't know Rose for Rose, or at least that's how she felt. She felt like she was stuck with the doll version that was manufactured to be perfect. And she wanted to know Rose.

So, she came up with a plan.

She reached out and swiped the pink phone off the table and slid her finger across the screen to unlock it. To her surprise, there was no passcode. "Hmm... since you won't drink and have fun with me... let's see who will." She sang the last part with a laugh as she scrolled through Rose's limited contacts. Seriously, the list in her phone was short. Once she saw Curly's name, she smiled wickedly. She had seen Rose and Curly together, and they had a cute little crush thing going on. It was adorable. Curly seemed to be the only one Rose really conversed with. And with that, she found her friendly blackmail to use. "Shall I text Curly some sweet little notes for you since you won't drink?"

* * *

Wow, Cat's last two factors were really close. 1% Thinking over Judging, that was just crazy. Unless she had calculated it wrong? The princess went over each addition once again, until a sharp movement to her right stole her attention. Rose lifted her started blue eyes and fixed them on Cat, and realised in panic that her phone had just been kidnapped!

"Hey! You can't just swipe my phone like that! That is personal property, give it back!" she protested quickly and made an unsuccessful grab for the phone. Not that there was anything on it Rose would want to hide, but still. Then her face went from surprised to  _completely mortified_ when the other girl found Curly's number. Rose didn't know what Cat's idea of 'sweet little notes' would be, but she had the feeling that whatever it was, she probably would never live it down.

"He would know it's not from me," she said stubbornly, trying to sound confident, though a shadow of a doubt did creep into her words. He  _would_ be able to tell. Wouldn't he?

* * *

Cathalina sat back more in her seat when Rose made a grab for the phone. "Nuh-uh." She tsk-ed as she smiled deviously. She held the pink phone in her hand as she looked at the princess. Oh, Cat would go insane if someone took her phone and started looking at it. Why? Cat wasn't innocent. There were text messages in there she didn't care for people to read. Not only that, but her phone was her baby. When she dropped the thing she did that full on girl scream like she just dropped her kid on the head. Cat wasn't so curious as to go through Rose's text, plus, in Cat's mind, that was just unforgivable. Reading peoples text messages were a big no. She didn't even do it to her siblings.

She could see it was working, though, and she had Rose right where she wanted her. "Would he?" she asked, teasing the girl's mind with possible doubts. "Who else would have your phone? Why would anyone think to text little sweet love notes instead of saying stupid things like 'Rose picks her nose' or whatever people come up with when their phones been hacked by friends." She held the phone, her thumbs on the screen like she was ready to type a message. "Come on. Let loose and have fun... oooor I'll have some fun for you."

* * *

"And why would  _I_ be sending him such things?" Rose countered immediately. She was stalling, though she didn't even know for what. If only there was a way she could create some sort of a distraction and take it back… Her eyes quickly darted around the pub, but Cat had chosen a booth way in the back. "Love notes would be just as much of a giveaway as the 'nose picking' text. He'd know I'm not the one sending them; he's smarter than that." Curly did have a good head on his shoulders, even if he could come across a little… flaky sometimes.

When Cat's thumbs hovered over the phone though, it sent a spark of panic down Rose's back. She opened her mouth and the words spilled out of her like a waterfall. "Sending strange texts is not fun in any capacity, and neither is drinking; you should be able to have fun without the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, and if I forgot to mention it, blackmail is also very very far from my idea of fun!" Rose wasn't even sure if Cat got all of that, or how much of it made sense. She'd never been this flustered before. It was clear now that her negotiation skills definitely needed work.

* * *

Cathalina paused and looked up at Rose when she threw that question at her. She had seen the way Rose looked at Curly and no, it wasn't all swoony and lovey, but it was definitely softer and not how she looked at everyone else. True, they could've just been close friends. Also true that Curly could very well just be the only person Rose could stomach. Yeah, she'd take a small offense to it if that was the case but all this was banking on the fact that somewhere DEEP down—probably something she didn't even notice—that the princess did have a twinge of feelings for Mr. Curran. Cat thought it was cute! And after she successfully got Rose drinking, maybe the girl would open up and they could talk about it and Cat could have a little more insight to Rose's world.

She didn't know what it was, but for some reason, all she wanted was to actually see Rose. Not play-by-the-rules-Rose, but her. Maybe being drunk would affect who the real Rose was too, but fuck it.

Frozen again when Rose rambled about fun capacity and amounts of alcohol, and not her idea of fun, Cat's eyebrows knitted together on her forehead in a confused and amused way before she started laughing. "How do you know alcohol won't be fun? Have you ever even given it a chance? You know you like the wine..." she said, trying once more at a friendly coax, but just in case that didn't work... "Well, blackmail and alcohol are my idea of fun soooo..." She looked at Rose as her fingers began typing out a message, making sure that every click, every tone of a key she hit, registered within Rose that she was really typing a message to Curly. Okay. Not really. She was typing in the Note section of the phone, but Rose didn't know that. Cathalina had a good poker face.

* * *

"Hey, hey! Stop it! What are you typing?" Rose demanded, standing up and trying to get a look at the screen. Curse the blasted table for being between them! As she stood up, she knocked the notebook and Cat's answer sheet, which both hit the ground, one with a soft thud and the other with the whisper of paper on the wind. Rose paid them no mind, her head buzzing with horrible, horrible possibilities.

Whatever Cat was doing, Curly would, without a doubt, find a way to make it into a joke. And then bring it up at the worst possible time, embarrassing her to no end. Just about the only thing that she wasn't worried about was Cat seeing her texts. The only texting conversations she had were with Curly anyway, and it was just an endless exchange of jokes.

* * *

Cathalina tried to recline back further into the booth to get away from Rose's peering eyes, but she was already as far back as she could go, so her only option was to pull the cellphone in closer to her chest. She wouldn't deem herself as cruel. She just... did things to get what she wanted. What she wanted was for Rose to open up, have another drink, and let Cat see what she's all about. She was all about finding people. Finding who they are. She believed no soul was alike but that they did kindle and find other souls that appealed to theirs. Not just in romance but in friendships, and she was curious. Could she and Rose be friends? They were friendly, she held no ill will to Rose, but they weren't on that 'friend' level.

"I am typing a nice little message that says how much you love his smile and your talks and how good a friend he is..." The way she trailed off made it clear that that 'friend' part would evolve into something more... or, that that's what the text will convey. She smiled up at Rose from the phone.

* * *

For a few moments, Rose simply looked at the girl in front of her, a completely blank expression on her face. Then her hand suddenly shot forward, wrapped around the glass and raised it up, as the prim and proper princess drank all of it in one big, long breath.

"You win," she said, sitting back down. Rose didn't know how much would be too much for her, having never even been close to testing her limits, but the world did spin for a second there when she downed a full glass. However, even if she wasn't completely sure exactly  _why_ , Rose knew she just couldn't let Cat send that text. So, she sat up straight and said diplomatically, "What do I have to do to get it back?"

* * *

Cathalina caught the fast moment of Rose's hand shooting out and grabbing the wine glass. She was stunned for a moment that her plan actually worked. She thought for sure the princess might play a little more hard ball and test her to the point where Cat might lose but... she won. YAY! But before she could celebrate that victory, she watched wide eyed as Rose gulped down the entire glass of wine. Holy shit. Cat had done it before, but wine was a sneaky bastard and hit you out of nowhere. She eyed Rose for just a moment to see if she was okay.

"That," she started and smiled brightly, "was absolutely brilliant! AH! You just made me excited. I think you may be quite the drinker, Rose," she teased and locked the phone so the screen was black after deleting the message and slid the phone into her purse. "You'll get it back after we have a couple drinks and talk. I want to know about you. Tell me about yourself and have fun, and that's how you'll get your phone back."

* * *

Rose wasn't sure what about that text was so bad. She would – and had, for the most part – told Curly these things to his face. She did appreciate their talks, and he was a great friend. And of course she liked Curly's smile, who wouldn't? It was one of her favourite things about him. When Curly smiled, the whole room got just a little bit brighter.

The mental image had Rose fighting the smile of her own, trying to make its way to her face. Maybe that was why that message was so effective – it was right on point. It sounded like something she might actually say, and if he believed it was her, who knows what else Cat could text him.

Rose tried to concentrate and fix her eyes on the other girl. The notebook and the test sheet lay at her feet, forgotten. She sighed. "What do you want to know?" she said, just as the curious waiter, probably having noticed her glass was empty and Cat's was nearly so, approached with an inquisitive look on his face.

* * *

Cathalina caught just the slightest curl of Rose's lips it was just a hint of a smile but not quite formed yet. She didn't know to what exactly it was for, if Rose was a little excited or what. She was pondering the thought when Rose came back with a question. She almost shrugged her shoulders, just her automatic response for when she was placed on the spot. But, she thought about it and when the waiter came around, she glanced up at him. Two more glasses, he asked, and she smiled as if he was speaking her kind of language. Two more glasses for the two of them and a talk so they could get to know one another outside of just being partners at school. "Anything. Whatever you want to share. Not the basics like 'name, age, parents, power...', I could find that all out in transcripts, but something so I get to know you as a person." She picked up her own wine glass and downed it so now they were both done.

* * *

"Because that's not vague or anything," Rose said flatly, then slapped a hand to her mouth. That was so rude! Was the alcohol affecting her already?

"I mean, there isn't that much to me," she said, wondering in the back of her head why Cat wanted to get to know her in the first place. "I'm not sure what you want me to say. I've been bred to rule. Most of who I am, or at least who I have to be, revolves around that fact. I have never left my country before I came to Andover, and people here confuse me, because you are all so informal and crude, even if most of you are royalty. I'm the heir to the throne, so I try to represent Oloria as best I can, try to get good grades, conduct myself with dignity. When I study I do so without distractions and food, and with a certain amount of concentration, which you have apparently decided to undermine." The waiter came back and placed to more glasses of wine between them. Rose eyes darted to Cat's bag, but she only sighed and took the new glass in her hand. "I like this wine," she said out of nowhere, eyeing the red liquid. "I've never had any favourites before coming here. Food and drinks were just things I ate so I could continue living. I hadn't even given such things as 'preferences' the slightest thought."

Oookay, her tongue was definitely getting too loose. Rose drank to stop herself from talking. Not the most logically sound decision, but her mind was beginning to get a little fuzzy around the edges.

* * *

Cathalina didn't take what Rose said offensively because it was the truth. She did cast a rather wide net to gain information about her. She didn't know what to specifically ask just yet. She could ask the basics like favorite color or food or something like that, but that wasn't really all that interesting. It was a base for which Cat could know her, so, she guessed they could start there. Then Rose started running at the lips.

So much information, but Cat was able to catch it all. She had a lot to comment on, but the one that needed to be addressed right now was, "What?!" she said, smacking the table with her hand in astonishment. "Food and drinks just things to sustain you?! Who lives like that? Food is..." She shook her head, just not even knowing where to begin. She was such a foodie. "Please. PLEASE come over for dinner one night. Me and my sister Elise will make you the BEST meal..s— it's plural because we typically can't choose so we sometimes pick a couple courses." It was true. One night they couldn't decide between tacos, pizza, and wings so they had them all. "And I have such a wine selection. Hell, I'll even get a bottle from here, your favorite, and we will have drinks and food and you can actually enjoy the food and just not eat it to survive." She just about yanked out her phone to call Elise and tell her the news and come up with a dinner plan. But that could wait, because there was more for her and Rose to discuss. "Bred to rule sounds so... heavy." A lot of responsibility. "I don't have to worry about ruling. My brother will rule one day. I don't have a title except for Princess—no future title besides that." She would never be queen unless she married that way, and she didn't even let it roam across her mind that if Max were to die she would get the throne. That wasn't even a concept that she wanted to consider. "I'm sorry we're so informal and crude." She apologized for everyone on Rose's list. "Sorry I undermined our study session. This discussion is much better than psychology theories and such."

* * *

"You can make the argument that it's a case study," Rose said with a slight smirk. "Maybe we can make psychological profiles of each other at a later day. That is, if we remember any of it." She took a big sip. A voice in the back of her head, probably her last remaining bit of sanity, kept telling her that she should stop drinking already, but another part, the one influenced by the alcohol, told it to shut up. She liked this wine. So what if it was alcoholic? She felt fine. She would know if she were drunk.

"Of course it's heavy," Rose remarked on the throne subject. "Especially if you're the only direct heir. You know what will happen to my country if anything happened to me? Civil war. The petty nobles of the court will clamber over each other to plant their butts on my seat. Another possibility, of course, is impeachment, if certain people find me unfit to rule. That's why I have to work hard. I have to be a good ruler, a good decision maker, a good diplomat. The last of which I'm failing, currently. Dismally. I can't even negotiate the return of my own phone." Rose took another heavy swing. "And I'll have you know that I have gained an appreciation of certain food. For example, Curly makes the best sweet potatoes on the planet." She very much doubted that anything could beat Curly-made food, but Cat and Elise were welcome to try it. "And if I do join you for dinner, you should know I'm a vegetarian."

* * *

Cathalina thought about it for a moment but she liked the idea. Drinking, talking, and enjoying themselves all for the sake of homework. That was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make. "I haven't had too much to drink to where I won't remember anything." Two glasses of wine were not enough to compromise her memory but a bottle or two? Yes.

She listened and nodded to Rose's comment about being heir. She knew the pressures because of Maxon. He was the only heir. Well, rightful heir. She was in no way biologically linked to her mother and father, Aurora and Philip, and if her true parentage came out—her father, the murderous drunk of the Isles, and her mother, thankfully still undiscovered—chances of inheriting the throne were low. Everyone would definitely be opposed to a daughter of a harlot taking the throne. It would be a mess, but she didn't have to think of that. She had Max. Rose had no one. "You'll be a wonderful ruler, Rose." The waiter brought over their glasses of wine and Cat made a mental note that this was number three, but that note quickly slipped from her mind because she was already feeling the lovely effects of the alcohol.

"Yum! I love sweet potatoes." She was thinking of these sweet potato fries they had here at the bar when Rose dropped a bombshell—she was a vegetarian. "Are you a vegetarian that just doesn't eat red meat or is it fish too?" She knew a girl that didn't eat any kind of meat and didn't eat gluten, and Cat just didn't know how she survived.

* * *

Rose felt her face flush at Cat's compliment, and it made a warm sensation spread through her. The feeling lingered, but it was definitely not the alcohol.

"Thank you for saying so," she said, smiling brightly. "I'm a vegetarian that doesn't eat any sort of animal," she elaborated, taking another drink. The wine was disappearing alarmingly fast.

* * *

Cathalina inclined her head at Rose's thank you. She didn't say that Rose would be a good ruler just so Rose could feel better about herself. She wasn't one to just tell someone what they wanted to hear just so they could get a boost of confidence. She told her this because that is what she honestly believed. Rose just had it together. She needed to loosen up to enjoy her teen years—to enjoy life—but despite that, she had a very firm head on her shoulders.

Then she reached for a sandwich and suddenly realized something. "Oops. Sorry." She had no idea Rose was a veg and so she had ordered turkey bacon sandwiches. She opened up her napkin and placed the sandwiches on the cloth before she folded it back up and stuck it on the booth seat next to her. Rose didn't seem bothered by the sandwiches, but people were vegetarians for a reason and normally that reason was meat repulsed them because it was dead , just being kind, Cat decided to hide the sandwiches for later and she wouldn't eat them in front of Rose.

* * *

Rose laughed when Cat tried to hide away the sandwiches. "You don't have to do that, that meat won't suddenly come back to life just because it's out of view. Besides, my dad is into hunting, I'm used to seeing dead animals." Not that she liked it. The princess saw the waiter and waved at him to come closer. "You know what, just bring us two bottles," she said to him, remembering that Cat wanted to take one back to her sister. "Actually," Rose continued, turning back to Cat, "when I was six I stumbled into the kitchen and saw a dead mallard in a bucket. The servants hadn't cleaned it off yet, the thing was overflowing with blood. I think I cried for a week straight." A small part of Rose's brain was aware that she had become uncharacteristically chatty. She didn't usually tell about such things to people.

"And hey, why am I the only one under fire here? You want to know about me, you have to share something too!" Rose would have stopped to think of a question, but her filter really seemed to have melted by this point, and she blurted out the first thought that popped into her head. "What is your favourite brand of toothpaste?"

* * *

Cathalina's mouth opened to object that comment about the animal coming back to life, but quickly shut it when it made her feel just a TINY bit guilty. And we're talking teeny tiny. Tiny enough to the point where she would still not become a vegetarian. She looked down at the covered sandwiches on the seat and had the urge to say an apology to the animal who had died to make sure deliciousness... so, she did. "I'm sorry. But I won't let you die in vain." No she would not. She was going to enjoy those sandwiches later tonight or in an hour or two to try and soak up the alcohol in her stomach. Her eyes left the sandwich and went back to Rose after her story. "Aw. Poor thing." Even though she ate meat, it didn't mean she liked to know or hear about the animals death. There was a reason she wasn't a hunter or a butcher—that, and because she was a princess and princesses didn't do such brutish acts. "My daddy and my brother hunt together. The took me on a hunt one time after I begged them to and they regretted it. I cried and begged for them not to shoot every animal that they saw. It's much different seeing the animals alive verses just seeing the finished product that you're about to consume." Cat, for the most part, was an open book. The only areas of her life that she didn't talk about was her childhood. But this, little stories of good—and somewhat traumatic—times were easy for her to share and definitely easier because of the wine.

Rose's words placed under the spotlight. She was expecting... well, she didn't know, but Rose's question made Cat bust into hysterical laughter. Ah, the alcohol was really hitting her. "My favorite brand of toothpaste?" She asked and then thought to what was in her medicine drawer back at the dorm. "Crest? I always buy the whitening mint one. I buy the same brand for my mouthwash too."

* * *

Cat apologizing to the sandwiches was kind of adorable. Rose smiled over her glass, but didn't say anything. Then she imagined little Cat crying and pulling on Max's sleeve, and the thought made her giggle. For some reason, however, the toothpaste question seemed like really serious business right now, so Rose felt compelled to argue the point. "Colgate is obviously the best whitening option on the market," she said with a completely straight face. "And it occupies 20% of the market share for toothpastes in China." This was very important. For… reasons.

* * *

"How the bloody hell do you know about market shares for toothpaste in China?!" Jokes out the door, this was a serious question. Who retained this short of information? Who researched this short of information besides toothpaste companies themselves? "Is that what you want to be in life? Not a princess, but a toothpaste marketer?" She giggled. "I still like Crest! It's my favorite."

"What do you do for fun?" Nothing in there did she hear about fun or something she enjoyed besides the wine. So, if Rose liked this wine, Cat would keep giving it to her. She grabbed her glass and took a sip.

* * *

Shaking her head to get rid of the sudden emotions, Rose laughed at Cat's overreaction. "It says it on the packaging." The other question did leave her stumped, though. "I don't know what I would do if I wasn't a princess. It's literally what I've been born to be."

A familiar song came on the radio, and Rose unwittingly started tapping her foot in tune with the music. "Fun?" she echoed, trying to think it over. "I read. Or I play music. Someone accused me once of favouring love songs. It's not my fault that there are so many! What did he want from me, a song about skinning puppies?" The princess began tapping her finger to the glass too and hummed along with a bit of the chorus of the song came on, and the princess stopped the conversation to sing along. " _You say I'm crazy, 'cause you don't think I know what you've done. But when you call me baby, I know I'm not the only one_."

* * *

Cat laughed, "Skinning puppies isn't funny but it's the way you said it." She giggled and reached over to grab a mozzarella stick and took a bite. Mm so yummy. "What do you play?"

She was thinking of Elise and how she should call her here so the princess could see just how amazing friendships could be but Rose's voice pulled her from those thoughts. "Hey. You never told me you could sing!" She had a lovely voice. "I love Sam Smith. Such a beautiful voice." Sam Smith was the vocalist of the song that Rose was singing and Cat couldn't help but sway and sing along with Rose.

* * *

When Cat began to sing along, their voices made for a very nice harmony, and Rose got an unfamiliar pleasant feeling in her chest. Harmonising felt… nice. She had never done this with another person.

Then she giggled along with Cat, because it really was ridiculous. Love songs were just what stuck in the public consciousness! "The nerve of him, too! I try to do something nice for an injured person and Larry  _complains about it_?" In truth Rose knew that Larry had only meant it as a friendly jab, but her memory of the event seemed comically inflated right now for some reason.

"I play the piano, flute and ukulele. My mother really wanted me to pick up dance, ballet in particular, but I was never the natural talent she was. Playing and singing calms me, so I chose to practice that instead. She got over it eventually. Truth is, I've always wanted to learn the violin, but I just haven't had the time lately." This was not a statement Rose made lightly. She had no social life and virtually nothing else to do all day for sixteen years other than read and study. Now, at Andover, she did find that her free time outside of lessons was sometimes eaten up by social interactions, which was something she never had to balance before. "Having friends is strange," she said thoughtfully. A small smile making its way to her lips, and she downed her third glass in the last hour with one large gulp.

* * *

"It was a _him_ who told you about the love songs?" She laughed because Rose hadn't mentioned who it was yet. "Typical men." She giggled as she lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip of the delicious red liquid. "Mmm," she hummed before she swallowed so she could speak. "I play the piano too. And the cello but that's what I was taught by a highly qualified teacher. I self taught myself how to play the guitar. I suck at it though." She laughed at herself. "I'm the captain in gymnastics. I don't know how well that would transition to ballet. I'm flexible," very flexible, "so, I could do the bends and such, but staying on my tip toes? I don't think I could fare that well." She tried to picture herself and all she could imagine was the aching pain in her toes. And what do you mean having friends is weird? Friends keep you sane! And drive you insane sometimes." She loved all of her friends in their own special way.

* * *

"We should play together sometime," the princess said when the waiter returned with the wine and she poured herself another glass, despite being keenly aware that she shouldn't. Or perhaps because of that. She wasn't in Oloria, so why shouldn't she do what she wanted, just this once? "And walking on your toes is murder. Do not recommend."

Then she chuckled at Cat's friends comment. "That is very true." Especially the second part. "I've just never had friends before, so it's a little strange." Rose looked down and muttered into her glass, "I'm not used to this." Reassurance. Camaraderie. Support. Counting on someone. These were all things she didn't even think about before. Things she had never known.

The song stole her attention again, and Rose swayed a little with the melody, singing along again.

* * *

She ran through all the duets for piano that she knew by heart in her head and nodded to Rose. "I'd like that." She never played with anyone before except her teacher and mother. She played for people but not with. "Oh, I won't try walking on my toes. I've broken my pinky toe in gymnastics and I can't imagine how many ballet dancers break on the regular. But God, it's such a beautiful art. I once cried at a ballet. I don't know why. I just did." That was a bit of an overshare but she didn't notice. Instead, she drank more wine and smiled when Rose ordered two bottles.

"You've never had one friend? Not one? Not even a servants child?" She had plenty of them. Well, three. They were about her age and she would play and read with them and her mother would scold her for always going into the servant quarters so eventually, the kids were allowed into the main house or outside because Cathalina would throw a fit at the social standards. "I had friends but I was always more keen to being around adults. My mother would try to get me to play with other royal kids and I mostly just stayed with her." That was also because most royal kids were brats.

She grabbed the bottle of wine that she hadn't noticed the waiter drop off and poured herself another glass.

* * *

Rose laughed out loud when Cat made the servants comment. "When I met Curly I was utterly convinced he was a peasant. No prince would act that way, I thought. Surely he was lying. I'm still not sure how he convinced me it was true." She drank again. "Honestly. He's such a doofus." Rose shook her head, though a small, fond smile did remain on her lips. "But I wouldn't have him any other way. I wasn't allowed to talk to the servants' children when I was little. My parents were afraid I might catch a cold or some other bug from them or something." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'd never really thought about friends as being all that important. I had my books and my responsibilities; I didn't need pointless distractions. Besides, most people find me cold." Another shrug. "There isn't exactly an eager crowd lining up for the position."

Rose looked at her reflection in the wine, her face growing serious. "But he's different. He's just so… kind. And open. I know he only wants to be my friend because I don't have anyone else, because he can't resist helping people, but even so…" Her grip on the glass tightened slightly. "Even so, I can't help but feel grateful he noticed me at all." Rose raised the wine to her lips and took a large sip.

* * *

Cathalina quietly drank her wine as she listened to Rose talk about Curly. It was funny, how Rose said one sentence for objects she liked but when it came to Curly, Rose was running at the mouth with such sweet and funny things to say. Cathalina knew Curly from school and he was a funny guy, but the way Rose spoke of him wasn't a way Cat would speak of him. Cat would say he was nice and funny, but Rose went into detail, even about his somewhat poor qualities. She smiled sweetly, just watching Rose's face light up with a smile of her own for Mister Curran. Now, Cat saw just how right of a choice she made by picking Curly to be the object in her friendly blackmail. Rose seemed sort of smitten as she spoke. It wasn't all gushy and lovey but she didn't see Rose as that type of girl anyways. "You like him, don't you?" She asked, taking another sip of wine to hide her smile. "I think you have a little crush on Curly." Forget about toothpaste and its packaging, they were talking boys now!

* * *

Rose huffed a laugh. "Of course I like him. He's my very first friend, my closest friend. And he's, well, Curly. Everyone likes him." She had yet to meet someone that didn't. Curly was hard to dislike.

Usually, she would be embarrassed about her lack of familiarity with modern slang, but it strangely didn't bother her this time, so she boldly asked, "What does that mean, you think I have 'a crush' on him? I haven't heard that idiom before." Curly was right, she should definitely get a book on these.

* * *

Cathalina wanted to launch into another rant/question on how she didn't know what a 'crush' is. As much as it baffled her with Rose's limited casual dialect, she also found it really cute. Not in a pity way, but in a, 'you're so adorable I want to cuddle you to pieces' kind of way. It was like Rose was a new baby and she was learning the world for the first time. In a way, she kind of was. She was learning the world outside of her princess training and outside of the castle walls that had kept her so sheltered. "Crushing on him is where you like him in more than just a friend way." She didn't think that would fully clarify it, "In a sweet, romantic way. Where you could potentially be more than friends...?" The last part ended in a question because she didn't want Rose to get offended by her assumption but c'mon. Rose crushed on Curly. Even if Rose couldn't see it, Cat could totally see it all over her face. It was cute.

* * *

"Oh. You mean do I like him romantically?" Rose asked, catching up. The wine swished in the glass as her whole body shook with laughter. The thought alone was ridiculous. "No, no, don't be silly. Friends is exactly what I want us to be." Being friends with Curly… it had changed everything for her. He could turn her entire perception of the world upside down with just a word. He could make her laugh with only a look, or calm her simply by breathing. Why would she ever want any of that to change?

Yes, it was obvious that while he was her closest person she definitely wasn't his, but Rose had decided months ago that it didn't matter. He did consider her a friend, and she knew she could count on him to be there if she needed it. What 'more' could there possibly be?

She shook her head again. All this Curly talk/thoughts were killing her buzz. Buzz? Was she 'buzzed'? The expression was vaguely familiar, but it surely didn't apply. She drank again. How many glasses was that? Ah, who cares. A new song came on the radio, this time a faster one. Rose usually preferred the classics over loud indie-fluke top 100 hits, but this song had been simply unescapable lately, and it just sort of grew on her. Her foot began tapping with the beat, her head nodding along. At first she sang fairly quietly, but the song pumped with the beating of her heart, faster and faster, making her sing louder and louder. Though the pub was mostly empty, she caught with the corner of her eye the way their curious waiter craned his neck to see what was going on.

A hilarious thought popped into Rose's head, and without taking even a second to think about it (very unusual, as she almost never acted on impulse), the princess decided to give him a show. An echo of the previous conversation reverberated across her mind, and Rose clambered on top of the table, her fingers curling around the throat of the open bottle, holding it up like a microphone.

" _She took my arm; I don't know how it happened. We took the floor and she said, 'Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me.' I said, 'You're holding back,' she said, 'Shut up and dance with me!' This woman is my destiny, she said, ooh-ooh-hoo._ " Rose turned to Cat and offered her a hand. "Shut up and dance with me!"

* * *

Oh it took everything in Cathalina's little body to not argue back and challenge her answer. She may not think she didn't want Curly more than a friend, but, Cat thought the girl did. She didn't see Rose and Curly jumping each others bones or anything so graphic and sudden, but she could see them holding hands. Holding hands and smiling and being too cute and lovey and it'll make Cat want to barf and yet snuggle them both at the same time. Even though she, herself, didn't do the whole love thing, it didn't mean she wasn't a sucker for it. Romantic comedies were the cutest.

To keep from arguing back, Cat brought the glass back up to her lips but when she took a sip, no liquid touched her lips. How the hell did it disappear so fast? She studied her empty glass, just checking for any holes but there were none. Huh, weird. She picked up the bottle and poured another glass and finally took her sip. When she lowered the glass from her lips she noticed why she was running out so quickly. Her sips were no longer sips, she was gulping the delicious stuff down. What glass was this again? She had no idea but she did know she was feeling mighty good.

She looked up at Rose as the girl took to the top of the table. Shock initially hit Cathalina because this was ROSE. The do-good princess! Now Rose was the wine-wielding, sparkling-eyed fun blonde who was up on the table singing her heart out. It was almost a complete 180. And Cat fucking loved it!

She cheered her encouragement as she clapped her hands and laughed joyfully as Rose sang the chorus of such a good song- it was just damn catchy. She tipped her head back and laughed, tipping drunkenly to one side and almost falling out of the booth from laughing so hard. She quickly caught herself on the edge of the table and the whole incident just made her laugh more.

When Rose's hand outstretched to Cathalina, she downed her glass of wine before she reached up and took it. She easily got her footing on the booth seat before stepping up on the table along with Rose. Sparing only a quick glance around, she saw that the bar was still mostly empty but that their waiter was standing there slack jawed looking at the two on the table. She didn't care, she was having too much fun to worry about judgement.

She swooped her long dark hair from her face after reached down and grabbed the second bottle of wine to use as her microphone. And then she sang along with Rose " _A backless dress and some beat up sneaks. My discotheque_ _Juliet, teenage dream. I felt it in my chest as she looked at me, I knew we were bound to be together!_ " She held Rose's hand with her's up in the air and did a little spin thru their arms and laughed, almost knocking shit off the table with her feet.

* * *

" _Bound to be together!_ " Rose sang and tried to duplicate Cat's move, but her foot stepped on the notebook and she slipped, falling back against the booth. Her back collided painfully with the hard wood, but the rest of her slid down the seat, legs sticking up comically. Rose looked up at Cat and laughter bubbled up inside her, making the ache a distant thought at the edge of her consciousness. She laughed so hard her butt slipped farther down and she almost tumbled under the table, but managed to catch herself in the last moment, which for some reason was hysterical.

Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes, when it finally registered that the waiter was trying to pull her up.

"Miss, you can't dance on the tables here," she heard him say, though couldn't tell if he was telling it to her or Cat.

"Says who? You can't tell us what to do," Rose replied stubbornly, wrenching away from his grasp and standing up. "We happen to be royalty."

"Miss," he tried again, "unless you and your friend both come down, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

* * *

Cathalina held her arm up high for Rose as she went to go in for a spin but something went wrong- too drunk to try and figure it out- and Rose was suddenly falling. It was like a slow motion scene where everything in time slowed just enough for your brain to think ' _oh shit! This is bad!_ ' before everything hit fast forward and it was too fast for you to change anything. Luckily, Rose had been kind enough to let go of Cat's hand in her... graceful decent, so Cat didn't go tumbling down with her. She was frozen in time, looking down at Rose's legs that were sticking up like this had all been a comedy skit and this was exactly what was supposed to happen. She logically thought to ask her if she was okay but laughter erupted from her throat and she couldn't say anything. It was hilarious! Rose looked hilarious! She was laughing so hard she did start crying, little droplets of tears falling from the corners of her eyes as she held onto her aching sides. "Rose..." She tried to say but ended up laughing harder and that made her stumble. Luckily, she balanced herself out and that's when she noticed the waiter was there.

She wiped her eyes so he wasn't all blurry but before she could even think to register his serious tone, Rose had declared them royalty as if that made them untouchable and that had Cathalina in stitches.

This time, her footing wasn't so lucky as she swayed in laughter and also to the song that was still playing. Her rounded tip of her Converse kicked the wine glass and sent it crashing to the floor. "Oops." was all she simply said for she was too happy to think of a broken glass. She held her hands out to Rose to offer to help her back up onto the table so they could continue their show.

* * *

The glass flew past Rose, but it took her a few seconds delay to turn her head that way and laugh. She reached to take Cat's hand, but the waiter beat her to it.

"Miss, get down from there!" he demanded, wrapping his fingers around Cat's wrist.

"Hey! Let go of her!" Rose slammed her heel right on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain and loosen his grip. Then, just as Max had taught her, she grabbed his wrist, turned her back towards him, taking a balanced stance in a slight squat, her body a breath away from his. Then she drew his arm forward so his armpit aligned with her shoulder and pulled sharply, combining the movement with a buck of her hips. In a split second, the waiter found himself flat on his back, a grunt escaping his throat.

"Joel!" a female voice called from behind, and Rose saw a frightened-looking waitress with short black hair and glasses holding a phone up to her ear.

This was probably not going to end well.

* * *

Cathalina felt the strong grip on her rest from a rough pair of hands and her brain knew it wasn't Rose's hands, but it also needed confirmation because it was working just a tad slower than normal. She followed the hand, up the arm, and to the waiters face. He looked both stern and pissed. It looked like he was going to give them a shameful talking and kick them out. She didn't see this, though. All she saw was him and he was not who she wanted to be touching her. "Excuse-" Before she could finish, Rose was flying to her defense. In a second, his hand was off her wrist and he was stumbling back. In the next second, Rose had him and was hunching down like a football player before the hike of the ball. It was so quick that this guy- their waiter- blurred in the air and landed with a hard sounding thud.

Cat's jaw went slack as she looked between Rose and the groaning , this wasn't going to go well. This was not a logical time for Cat. "FUCK YEAH!" She shot up into a cheering stance, fist pumping and hollering her praises for Rose. "Look at what the hell you did. LOOK! He's on the ground! I didn't know you could do that!" Her amazement was clear in her voice. She- very drunkly- clambered her way down from the table, knocking off another glass and a plate in her decent. As soon as her feet were on the floor, she got to Rose and threw her arms around her, embracing her in a hug. "You're a little badass!" She cheered as if bucking some guy over her shoulder was the coolest thing ever. And, right now, it was. "But... I think we should go." The realization that the waiter was on the ground, that another waitress was on the phone all sent alarm bells ringing off in her head.

* * *

Rose just stared at the guy at her feet, her sluggish brain taking longer than necessary to process what had just happened. Next thing she knew, Cat was climbing down from the table, causing an enormous racket, and throwing her arms around her.

Rose was usually not one for physical contact, not at all. People invading her personal space made her feel extremely uncomfortable (not counting a very few exceptions), but when Cat embraced her joyfully, all Rose did was laugh. The hug didn't bother her in the least, and in fact amused her with how hugely impressed Cat was at something so basic. Her warning came too late, though.

"You are not going anywhere," came a voice from the bar, and a tall, bearded man advanced towards them threateningly. "You have to pay for the glasses you broke."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Fine, money is not a problem." She disentangled herself from Cat and reached into her bag, leaving a few banknotes on the table. "That should cover it," she said coldly.

"And what is going to cover his hospital bill?" the man asked, inclining his head to the waiter, who was still moaning on the ground.

"Hospital bill?!" Rose exclaimed indignantly. "He is fine!"

"Listen here, missy, you just assaulted a member of my staff," the man growled.

"He assaulted my friend!" Rose protested hotly.

They went back and forth for a few minutes, until the unmistakable sound of police sirens pierced the air and a pair of red-and-blue lights shone outside the window.

* * *

Cathalina let go of Rose so she could start putting her things in her bag so they could get out of there but then some guy started shouting at them. Or maybe he wasn't shouting but he had an obnoxious booming voice. "Don't insult us by saying we won't pay!" Though the guy did have every right to assume so, but Cat was pissed he did. They had caused a racket- mainly her with all her glass breaking- but she wasn't so cheap as to where she'd skip the bill. Okay, honestly, maybe it was the alcohol that was heightening her emotions to make what the guy sound more offensive than what it truly was.

As Rose put cash on the table, Cathalina grabbed out a hundred from her wallet and fished in her purse for a pen... though there was one on the table. She scrawled a not-so-nice word on the bill and set it down ontop of Rose's money. She was feeling quite smug with herself for the little note but mostly because she had cash to lay down instead of having to ask the guy to swip her debit card. She hardly ever carried cash.

"What? Do you not give your employees health insurance?" It was a jab at him and the establishment. She looked down at the waiter on the ground who looked fine. He wasn't bleeding. "He's just a baby. All my friend did was defend me. He should learn to keep his hands to himself." Odd how now that she and Rose had shared drinks together and had some fun, getting themselves into this situation, that they were now referring to each other as friends. It was like some wine and a duet while dancing on a table were the requirments for them to have a friendly relationship instead of being just class partners.

She let Rose handle the guy in conversation as she started to pack their things in their bags. Books, pens, notebooks, and of course the left over wine all went into their bags and just as she was swing both of them over her shoulder another stern voice spoke.

"Ladies." Cat turned to see a man in uniform walking towards them. ** _"_** You're going to need to calm down and you're going to need to come with me."

 _Oh shit..._ She thought as she swallowed something thick that was coating her throat and preventing her from talking. One of the bar employees was a nark and called the damn cops.


	21. Chapter 21

"your princess shit kicked a waiter because she was drunk off her ass." sula laughed again.

she was actually impressed with that uptight lab partner of hers, but it was clearly distressing her passenger and sula couldn't get enough.

of course, it could have been her driving that was really responsible for the anxious, tense vibes she was gleening.

sula had a little custom honda civic si with magic'd components fit for racing like she was on a course, not minding the wet roads or the pouring rain.

it was dangerous. reckless. but such a rush.

sure it probably wasn't smart breaking road laws on the way to pick up two drunk chicks but eh. sula didn't care.

obviously.

* * *

Curly might have responded to Sula's words – clearly, the officer calling her about Cathalina and Rose had been a lot chattier than the one calling him – but he was a little busy hanging on for dear life.

He had never expected anyone's driving to scare him. His mother could be pretty damn reckless when she was in a hurry to get somewhere and got behind the wheel – it might have been what instilled an early sense of fearlessness in her young son – but Rapunzel Fitzherbert had  _nothing_  on Ursula Hook.

By the time they actually got the police station, the prince was thanking every diety and spirit he had ever heard of that they hadn't crashed and burned and it took a lot of self-control – more than he had thought he had, actually – to keep from launching himself out of the car, dopping to his knees and kissing the ground. It was probably only the fact that it was raining and he knew what water would do to Rose that kept him from doing just that.

"Ha..." he breathed when they were at a complete stop. "You might want to go slower on the way back. So they don't puke in your car." Though, for all he knew, Sula could have spelled the thing to be self-cleaning for shit like that. She had certainly gotten the hang of a similar spell during their training.

Peering out the window toward the building, he tried to plot the swiftest course to the door – the one that would let him get the least wet. "I've never done this. You know where we need to go in and what we need to do inside?"

* * *

sula made a face at the thought of the two chicks puking in her car.

hell no.

sure, she wasn't driving a mundie car. no way. her little honda was magiaclly sup'd she wouldn't drive anything less. let alone race anything that didn't run on magic one way or another.

but magical cleaning... nope. hadn't crossed her mind until right then.

sula turned her attention from her inner dwellings to that of the outside world, curly, and the police station beyond her windshield and the rain. "yeah," she said with a little smile. there had been a number of times she'd bailed and been bailed out of jails. "this is my first time at this one though. but it's basically the same thing."

cat and rose were pretty fucking toasted. they had to be in order for the cops to resort ot calling contacts on their cells rather than parents about their naughty children or the school about their questionable students.

sula reached into the glove compartment infront of the prince and made a quick rumage before she pulled out a billfold. pulling out a blank plastic rectangle the same size as a driver's licence, sula's eyes glowed slightly, a soft purple glow. her finger started flicking over the little plastic like it would have if she were scrolling through something on an ipad or some other such touch screened tablet. as she did so, a green smoky mist lingered around her fingers, attaching to the plastic a little bit at a time with every flick.

then she stopped. "this one will work," she said and flashed him the card. not that he could really see or anything, but the recently blank plastic now had a printed picture of her, from some random state, and an appropriate age for pick up.

she set that between her thighs and pulled out another plastic that hadn't been in the billfold before and started doing the same thing she had but for a shorter time. when she was done she handed it to curran. "just in case. but they shouldn't bother with you too much if i say i'm there for both. that okay with you?" she asked.

whatever. rose was his princess so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

* * *

This was another reason he had called Sula. Not only was she pretty much the only person he knew well enough to ask who had a car, but he had guessed she would have experience with the situation. Not because he thought Sula would get arrested or have friends who needed bailing out (that was just a fact), but because she was worldly in a way that he could never be. It was reassuring that she knew what to do and how to do it, and that was why he had called her. (It really helped that she had already been coming down here to pick up Cathalina.)

Over the course of their friendship, Curly had seen probably more than his fair share of Sula's magic (especially since Halloween), but he had never seen her make a fake ID with it before. So he watched – of course he did. The light and mist and glowing eyes made it slightly dizzying in the dark, but after blinking spots from his vision, he still thought it was a pretty damn cool use of magic.

More so since it would help them get Rose and Cat out of jail.

"Cool," he said, taking the card and looking at it briefly before tucking it into his wallet. "I'm okay with you handling it – I'll stand by and look pretty and clueless, since that's what I am." His lips quirked into a smile, though he wasn't quite feeling the joke just yet. Call it a combination of Sula's terrible driving and the slight worry that Rose wouldn't be taking her arrest well – the way Sula told it, the princess was toasted and probably having too much  _fun_  to care much about the arrest. Curly wanted to believe that was the case, but until he saw Rose, a part of him would worry.

Figuring they were set, he grabbed his umbrella and got out of the car, not bothering to open it as he made a dash for the police station – it was more for keeping Rose dry on the way to the car anyway.

* * *

~oOo~

The inside of the jail cell was slightly chilly and the annoying fluorescent light made Rose a little dizzy. The waiter at the Snuggly Duckling didn't press any charges, but since the two of them were minors, and obviously highly intoxicated, the officers had hauled them to the station and stuck them in an empty cell to wait for someone to come pick them up. They confiscated their personal effects, so Rose had no idea what time it was or who would come to get them.

It wasn't long before she started to feel sleepy, the alcohol taking its toll on her nervous system, and she just slipped down from the bench like a limp noodle, lying on the floor at Cat's feet.

"Who do  _you_ have a 'crush' on?" she asked out of the blue, reaching up to the ceiling as if she could touch it. "I never got to ask, what with you kicking wine glasses all over the place."

* * *

Cathalina felt like she always did when she consumed too much alcohol; she felt sick. Her head was feeling slightly heavy, she had a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she knew she was still slightly drunk. Any time she went to move her head to fast the world would tilt and she'd have to close her eyes to keep from puking. Being drunk was so much fun! Coming down from being drunk was such a bitch. Almost made her want to drink again just to feel the way she had before, and yet she almost never wanted to drink again. It was a toss up.

She was slumped against the hard cold wall of the holding cell, her eyes closed to black out the too bright lights. Still, even on the verge of feeling like complete shit, she had had fun with Rose.

"Hmm?" She hummed before the question Rose asked finally caught up with her brain. "Oh." She squinted her already shut eyes in concentration. Who did she have a crush on? "Crush as in just finding the person cute and I'd kiss them sort of way?" That would be a lot of the hot boys and some of the girls here at school. Cathalina could find both the sexes very appealing but other than just physical attraction? There were only a select couple that she could say she liked as a person rather than just their hotness.

* * *

"It's open for interpretation," Rose said, her hand making lazy circles in the space above her. Man, she was hungry. And sleepy. And possibly still drunk. But hungry. She wanted comething sweet... Ice cream! No, chocolate!  ** _Chocolate ice cream!_**  She wondered if the police officers would be kind enough to go buy her some. But then she'd have to get up and ask. The floor was cold and hard, but the thought of moving was harder. To implement. And thinking was harder. What were they talking about? Oh yeah, Cat's love life. Oh, chocolate  _cupcakes_! Yum.

* * *

Cathalina took a few moment, possibly nodding off a second or two, before she could think of an answer to give. "I guess, as far as attraction goes, there are a lot of hot people at Andover." She lifted her head off the wall and sat up as properly as she could, opening her eyes and realizing Rose wasn't beside her any longer. She looked down and saw the girl by her feet. She laughed, looking around to see if there was anything she could offer as a pillow but there wasn't. "Are you comfortable down there? You can come lay up here." She didn't think the bench would be anymore comfort than the floor but at lest she'd be on the bench and not on the ground. Oh right. The question. "To be completely honest, I've never really dated. I mean, I've went out with people but it never got to the exclusive 'you're mine and I'm yours' sort of relationship. It's my fault though." She mumbled the last part as she folded in half and placed her head between her knees. What was it about this position that just made you feel better?

* * *

"Nah. Too much effort. Floor is fine," Rose replied airily. "You still have more experience than me. I've never been  _on_ a date." She wasn't even sure what that entailed. Was there a dress code? Rules? Things she was and wasn't supposed to do? "How do you know when you're supposed to go from… not exclusive  _to_ exclusive?" Was there a certain point in time? Or something your S.O. was supposed to do to let you know? This dating and romance stuff was needlessly complicated. And confusing.

Now Rose felt like doughnuts. Cops ate a lot of doughnuts, didn't they? She lifted her head slightly to cast a hopeful look at the bars, but there was no one in sight. She laid back down. "Why was it your fault?" she asked Cat. "Don't you like the 'you're mine and I'm yours' thing? I thought that was the whole point of dating." Or something. Her stomach growled loudly.

* * *

Cathalina gave the laziest shrug. If the floor was fine, the floor was fine. It wasn't like she was in a state where she could lift Rose off the ground and put the princess up here with her. The fact that Rose had never been on a date didn't surprise Cat... and yet it still did. It was a common confliction of feelings that she was often getting with the girl. These were such simple teenaged things that it was easy to forget that Rose with her sheltered life wouldn't have that.

She thought of a way to answer her friend without triggering Rose's mind to just automatically start psychoanalyzing her, but there was none. "I don't." She answered truthfully before she yawned, feeling a little sleepy. How long have they been in here? And how much fucking longer did they have? Could they at least get some water and a damn blanket? She thought to ask these things aloud but figured it would just be met with 'When someone comes to get you'. Bastards. They should've just let them off with a warning. "Getting from non-exclusive to exclusive is a big leap." Again, this was for her. Rose could find it absolutely easy. "Going from just worrying about yourself and having fun to just being with one person... All. The. Time." That wasn't scary to Rose? That was terrifying! "When you're with someone, they're supposed to know you and it's just..." She shook her head, moving her knees along with the movement. That's what was scary. What if they tried to dig into her past? What if they wanted her to be truthful? And there was still the fact of just being with that one person! She just hadn't found anyone that was worth that. "Being in a relationship just sounds hard, Rose." She sighed and slowly rolled over so that she was laying on her side on the bench. "When do we get to eat? I need a burger to soak up this alcohol." She groaned.

* * *

"Yes, but how do you know you've made that leap?" Rose elaborated thoughtfully. "First off, entering a relationship is supposed to mean that you want to spend time with and know this person. So shouldn't you be happy about that? Secondly. Erm. Wait, I had a point, I swear…" Her hand fell back to her side. What else did she want to say? She did have more thoughts ringing about her head, but then Cat mentioned food and she got distracted. "I knooooow," she whined like a child. "I'm so hungry I could eat a whole bucket of potatoes. Where the hell is Curly when you need him?!"

* * *

Cathalina groaned again when Rose tried to get to the bottom of why someone would become exclusive. "I suppose I would be happy about wanting to spend every day with that person. I just... isn't it scary?!" Was she the only one? Possibly. Oh Lord help her when it comes to getting married. She'd be the weepy bride asking everyone if she was doing the right thing. Maybe. No. If she decided to get married, obviously that person would mean everything to her, right? Why the fuck was her mind on marriage? Nope.

She rolled over again so that way she was on her stomach and she was using her arms for her pillow. Sleeping on her stomach or with a pillow clutched to her chest was her favorite way to sleep. She was sleepy. It was boring in this place. They took away their wine! She needed wine more wine and then she'd be dancing again.

A whole bucket of potatoes. Cat started laughing. "What? Noo. Maybe fries." She just had an image of Rose stuffing a whole potato in her mouth. "Girl, you need some meat in your life." She didn't mean it as an innuendo but it came out that way and she just laughed more. "You think if we ask the guard that they'll bring us food... and the wine that is in my purse?"

* * *

Rose frowned slightly, trying to get her fuzzy brain to work. "Why would being with someone be scary?" she mused as Cat shifted around on the bench. "I should think making sure the other person isn't a serial killer is something one must do before committing." Cat probably wasn't listening. Which was good, because Rose had no idea what she was saying.

The topic of food was once again a huge distraction, and Rose laughed along. "I didn't mean a bucket of  _raw_ potatoes!" she managed to say in-between giggles. "And you need to eat more healthy! A bucket of fries will get you a heart attack. Baked potatoes." She nodded to herself, confirming the obvious superiority of the baked potato. Then her eyes sparkled at the prospect of more wine, and she felt a bit more energised. "Yes!" the princess exclaimed, raising her fist and slamming it to the floor. "That wine is  _ours_!" A shock of pain shot up her hand. "Ow," she whimpered, lifting it to her chest and laughing again. Hard floor – 1; Rose – 0.

That was when the door of the cell finally opened, and a broad-shouldered officer with a short blond beard gestured to the two girls to stand up. "Rise and shine, ladies. Someone's here to pick you up."

* * *

Cathalina might've dozed off for a split second, being oddly comfortable on the cold bench. Her skin was heated from the alcohol and the cold metal bench felt so nice. She woke like she hadn't just checked out for a second to respond with a, "I eat healthy!" It was more of a defense because by the way she talked about food, it didn't seem like she ate too healthy. Tacos, pizza chicken, steak... They were so yummy! She had a salad sometimes and she loved fruits but nah, she didn't really eat too healthy. "I'd rather suffer a heart attack eating an amazing slice of pizza than choke on a piece of lettuce." Mmm... Pizza sounded so yummy.

Rose's exclamation startled the dozing Cathalina and she turned to see the girl clutching her fist. She started laughing her ass off and reached a weak hand out to comfort her but she couldn't stop laughing. She was pure comedy! "Are-" She tried to say between laughs, "okay?" She missed a word in there but she couldn't care.

There was a loud clinking noise and an officer came in. For a moment, she thought he might've heard their hopes for wine and food and came to the rescue but nope! Their true rescuers were here. "OH THANK GOD!" She exclaimed as she pushed herself up from the bench too fast. "Oops." She stumbled a couple steps, only tripping over Rose as her head spun. She caught her footing before she reached down and tried to help Rose up. "We're saved! We get FOOD!" in other words, get your ass up and let's go!

* * *

-oOo-

when sula came in, she was smiling.

curly wasn't useless. but he was pretty and the sparkle in her eye said as much.

there wasn't much of a wait or line and so they arrived at the front desk quickly.

the bullet proof glass wasn't a hinderance to her, but the little protection spell that filtered around the station walls was curious.

was there a magic user here working on the sly, or was the magic commissioned, she wondered.

but that was something for another time.

right now, she and curly needed to get the girls out.

she told the cop whom she was there to bail out and the process began.

sula smiled and flirted with the cop at the front desk while they waited.

he was cute.

and it was easier to put a spell on someone when they were willing.

idiotic and willing.

bewitched, the copper wouldn't notice she wasn't filling out the appropriate paperwork and later, when they were gone with both girls, he wouldn't remember that there had been two girls in the hold. their paperwork and information, all of it, going missing.

the more she talked and spoke honeyed words into his ear, the more she infected him. spells and witchery slipped beneath his skin, into his blood and brain and breath. attaching and clinging, wrapping around the names of her friends. and the silly drunken antics.

and later, when he was asked about the two girls, the cop would answer in ignorance, and pass the infecting witchcraft on. and so, like dominos, one by one, anyone who inquired about rose and cat would quickly forget.

yes. she had done this a few times.

* * *

While Sula handled the cop – Curly made sure he stopped listening to her the moment he caught the light of magic in her eyes and the sound of it coating her voice – the prince watched the door leading back to the holding area.

A drunk Rose. It was hard to imagine. Even harder to picture was the contained princess getting drunk enough to dance on a table in public. Impossible to think of was Rose assaulting a waiter. Or anyone, really. What kind of person was Cathalina if she could convince  _Rose_  of all people to get drunk?

Curly wondered if he would need to be angry with this other girl for getting his friend in trouble. Or if he would be thanking her for helping Rose have a good time. He supposed it all depended on how Rose was doing when they brought her out.

Which seemed to be now, if that blonde head he just caught a glimpse of belonged to the princess. "Rose," he called out, guess becoming certainty as the door opened and the two girls were led through.

* * *

With Cat's help, the still-a-little drunk princess managed to get off the floor, barely acknowledging the dull ache in her back and shoulders when the other girl pulled her up.

The first thing Rose registered when the officer led them into the waiting room was the tall, dark-haired figure of Ursula. They called her  _lab partner_ to come and get her? Someone at the Police Station must be a wizard then, because Rose was relatively sure that she didn't have her number.

Then a voice stole her attention, and as her eyes fell on Curly, her face broke into a wide smile. She pounced on him like an excited puppy, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Curly! I was just thinking of you! I have to ask you something very important!" She wanted to ask him if he could make her chocolate-glazed doughnuts. However, as soon as she hugged him it struck her how warm he was – possibly because she had been lying on the cold floor for a while – and her thoughts mangled and mixed on the way to her mouth. "Are you an oven?"

It took a few seconds for her sluggish brain to register what she had just said, and then she laughed, too amused to stop, take a breath and explain. The shaking of her body caused the muscles of her bruised back to burn a little, but the alcohol was dulling the pain for the most part.

* * *

Cathalina stopped before she exited the door with Rose. "Wait wait wait." She said to the guard, turning to face him. She still had her mind on the wine and food and she couldn't have either of those things without her purse. She needed money for food and she had the bottle of wine she bought for her sister in there as well. "Where do I get mine and my friend's purse?" She asked the guard and he pointed out the door and to the desk area where she saw Sula. Sula! Who called Sula? She didn't remember making any phone calls. And Curly was here! How did Curly get here? Rose was just talking about him and potatoes. The real question was did anyone bring fries?

Without thanking the officer, she walked out of the door and smiled at the sight of Rose clutching onto Curly. "Awww!" She made the sound effect that was playing in her head. "You two are so cute!" She gushed at the pair. She was going to walk over to Sula and thank her for coming and asking her how exactly she knew to come but she seemed to be very interested in the officer. She couldn't put two and two together that Sula was working magic, she just looked really into the conversation and flirty. It was like a case of the giggles because as soon as Rose started laughing, she did too. She had no idea why they were laughing though. "Did they give you our stuff?" She asked through giggles to Curly, hoping Sula would hear her and ask for their things.

* * *

it was unavoidable to look when the shouts rang out. really, these drunk chicks were loud and annoyingly amusing.

Sula whispered a couple more things to the officer before stepping away. as she did, he retrieved rose and cathalina's belongings and slipped them through the gap.

unlike the rest, she didn't say anything. just observed.

* * *

Well. Curly supposed that answered most of his questions on how Rose was feeling. The princess was definitely still drunk.

And apparently she was an affectionate drunk. He found himself smiling again when she wrapped her arms around him, huffing a laugh as he hugged her back. "Uh... no? I am not an oven. Are you sure that's what you wanted to ask?"

The smile remained when Curly looked over at the giggling Cat, then lifted his eyes to see Sula finishing up with the officer, the girls' bags on the counter beside her. "Sula's got them."

Turning his eyes back to the two drunk girls, he fought back another laugh but couldn't do anything about his grin. "I hear you two had quite the adventure."

* * *

Curly said something, but Rose wasn't listening. "If your nickname is Curly… why isn't your hair curly?" she asked, pouting thoughtfully as one of her hands left his neck and patted the top of his head to investigate. His hair was thick and kind of bouncy, but it definitely seemed straight to her. In order to test said hypothesis, she ran her fingers through it and laughed, greatly amused at the way it stood on end. "On second thought, I like it this way. Don't change it."

Then she bent back to look at Cat, almost falling out of his grasp in the process, and said, "Tell him he shouldn't change it."

* * *

Cathalina was getting into that state of drunk where she was getting sleepy but refused to believe so. She rubbed at her eye and yawned, and when she pulled back her hand she noticed she had rubbed her mascara. "I always  _do_  that!" She complained, again to no one in particular. It was just... hard to keep her thoughts as thoughts. She wanted so speak and chat and laugh. She wanted to have fun!

She walked over to the big glass case where the medals were hung and certificates displayed proudly. She didn't look at any of this. Instead, she used the reflection in the glass to fix the black smudge she had created under her eye. She turned back once she was fixed and saw Rose running her fingers through Curly's hair.

She pinched her lips together in a hilarious looking smirk as she tried to keep herself from laughing. She failed. She started laughing, clapping her hands and tipping her head back. "Rose is having a love affair with your hair... but she's right. Don't change it." She told Curly, in agreement with Rose. "And I'd say we had quite the..." She paused in her words as an image of a drunk happy Rose on the table filtered into her mind. "It was Uh-maze-ing!" Definitely a night she would remember. Or, hope to remember. "We all need to have a drink together and..." That reminded her...

"Sula!" She said, looking at the girl. "I have wine in my bag... Rose and I had an extra bottle and if it wasn't for the stupid waiter, we would've probably finished it but Rose turned into a badass ninja and hurt him and he was a little bitch and..." She was getting off subject, "Is my wine in the bag?"

* * *

sula shook her head and grabbed the bags. with a glance over her shoulder she could already see her spell working; the officer she'd been flirting with wasn't the least bit disturbed by racket her friends were making, returning to his duties like they didn't exist, where his other coworkers paused to throw various expressions their way.

rolling her eyes, sula grabbed the bags from the counter and shoo'd the girls toward the door. seriously, they could fuck around outside. she didn't need them all getting arrested AGAIN for being stupid shits in the lobby of the fucking police station. "out... curly" she smirked, no doubt enjoying his slight discomfort with his little princess's obvious inebriation.

sula tossed the guy a charm. "that'll keep the wet off." she said and slipped her arm around catalina's waist. "come on, baby. time to go."

* * *

"Uh… Good?" Curly said, unable to stop himself from laughing as Rose ran her fingers through his hair. This really affectionate version of the princess was… he didn't know how to deal with her. She was adorable, but he couldn't stop thinking about how embarrassed she was going to be when she sobered up. Except… that didn't really keep him from kind of enjoying this. It was too cute.

"Whoa!" Okay. Cute, but maybe a bit unsafe. Tightening his arms around her, Curly pulled Rose closer so it was easier to hold her up. Which, of course, resulted in a lot more touching than she would usually allow – and maybe a little more than he was strictly comfortable with. He really hoped she wasn't going to be mad at him when she was herself again. This was a whole lot of body to body contact.

In his distraction over Rose almost tipping herself out of her arms, he missed most of what Cat was saying – he heard something about a love affair with his hair and something about wine. But then Sula was tossing him something, which he caught out of reflex, and heading toward the door with Cat in tow.

"Thanks. Rose? We're gonna head to the car now. It rained," it was still raining, "but Sula made a charm to keep the water off." Slipping the charm's string over Rose's head, Curly wondered if she had gotten that. Or if she was going to freak out on him when he stepped outside into the pouring rain.

* * *

Rose yawned widely. The rush of seeing Curly had died down and she reverted back to her tired state, with the added bonus of sleepiness. So, when he put the charm around her neck Rose barely bothered to ask what it was for, and honestly, she wasn't really paying enough attention to her surroundings to notice on her own or remember anything of what he said.

After a quick glance at Cat, Rose relaxed in the knowledge that Ursula was being uncharacteristically gentle with her. The sea witch wasn't nice to just anybody, and Rose knew enough about her at this point to draw the conclusion that, though she was quite picky, once Ursula had you under her protection, it wasn't a laughing matter. Rose felt secure that she would take care of Cat, so she yawned once more and let the sober people handle things.

Leaning comfortably against Curly, Rose let her friend guide her through the darkness outside and to the car, only vaguely registering the drumming of the rain on the umbrella. Once inside, she coiled her arms around his waist and snuggled up to him sleepily, her forehead nestled in the crook of his neck. And then she started rambling.

"You don't have to worry, little Curly-oven. We'll break the evil spell that turned you human and separated you from your people! Ursula must know how, I'm sure of it, and then you'll be an oven again. Oh, but then I'd miss you. OH! We'll make you a home down in the kitchen with your other oven-friends and come visit you! Moe can invent some sort of magi-tech thingy that will let you talk, and you can teach us how to cook! Larry will find some big, old cookbook, and you'll give us instructions, and we'll mess it up because we can't cook, but you'll tell us it's great anyway…"

The ramblings became mutters, slowly dying down as the ridiculous words flowed seamlessly into a dream.

_Rose could picture the Andover Academy kitchen vividly, with Moe sitting on the ground, fiddling with an oven that somehow had Curly's hair. She was at the counter, slowly stirring the sticky stuff in the bowl in front of her, while Larry stood beside her, a big book open in his hands, and counted outloud how many times she need to stir. Then she reached for a chemistry beaker containing green-tinted liquid, which she tipped over the concoction as Larry kept telling her to be careful and to only pour three quadrants. Suddenly the contents of the bowl exploded, coating the entire place with a yellow, sticky substance. Moe froze in place as it hit, comically holding a screwdriver in the air while the oven laughed in Curly's voice. Larry blinked owlishly at Rose under a generous layer dripping down his blond hair, and she looked down to her pretty dress, smeared all over with whatever they were trying to make._

The sleeping princess shook with laughter that barely left her lips and sighed.


	22. Chapter 22

The dining hall buzzed like a busy beehive. Everybody and their grandma was excited for the upcoming Valentine's Day Auctions, though Rhett couldn't be less interested. If people wanted dates, all they had to do was ask each other out. Why was this thing such a big deal? He seriously doubted his classmates were excited for the charity part of the event.

Having poured a healthy amount of gravy on his steak (seriously, this school was so much fancier than the Wonderland public schools he'd gone to when he was a kid) Rhett turned around, tray in hand, and scanned the room for a fun-looking table. Hmm, let's see, boring chicks, boring dude-bros, boring furries, boring jocks, boring artsy-fartsy types, boring freshmen, boring seniors… Wait. A grin broke across his face when he spotted one of said seniors, his roommate, Isaiah Charming, occupying a table alone with his twin, the lovely Princess Iolanthe. Rhett waved at them cheerily, though they clearly didn't want to be disturbed. All the more fun to crash their sibling party, he thought and made to join them, when a glimpse of blonde hair stole his attention.

Rose was sitting on her own, struggling to open her pudding cup. Containing the laugh that bubbled inside him to a mere grin, Rhett approached the princess.

"Milady, as your knight-in-shining-jeans, I would like to offer you my excellent pudding-opening services."

* * *

Rose looked up, startled at Rhett's sudden appearance. Then she couldn't help but smile at his introduction.

"Please," she said, holding the pudding up to him. "I haven't had much luck with it on my own."

It was a Wednesday, and she didn't have classes with any of her friends, meaning that Rose was left completely to her own devices. Not that she usually had trouble opening her food. It was just this damn dessert; it had to be enchanted or something, because it just wouldn't open! She'd been struggling with it for over five minutes now, but giving up seemed like she was letting a stupid pudding beat her! Not to mention that it was a waste of food, and when so many people were starving all over the world, it just made her feel guilty to throw out something perfectly eatable.

* * *

"As you wish," Rhett replied with a big, easy smile and took the pudding, peeling the top of with almost zero effort. "So, how's life been treatin' ya, Rosie? Excited about the auctions?" he said, sitting down opposite her and digging into his steak. He figured that would be a nice and safe topic to start off with, and wondered briefly if she was going to participate, and in which one. There were actually two auctions going on at the same time, one where boys bet on girls to win a date, and one with the roles reversed. All proceeds went to charity, of course, though again, not many people cared about that. It didn't seem much like Rose to bid on guys for dates, or to let herself be bid on. Or to go on dates with strangers. "Which one of the Stooges are you gonna bid on?" Rhett added in a teasing voice, taking a big bite of his gravy steak.

* * *

Rose almost sighed at the question. These silly auctions were all everyone talked about lately, but she just didn't see the point. Why would you pay money to go out with people you see all the time? Or, alternatively, why go out with someone you don't even know? She just couldn't understand why people wanted to do this so much. Curly had dragged Moe and Larry and signed them up almost against their will, citing the charity angle and 'It'll be good for us!' as an excuse. As usual, he just wanted his friends to socialize more, and when he was explaining himself to Rose, he decided it would do her some good to meet new people too and managed to rope her into it as well.

"I ended up signing myself for the Girls Auction, but I wouldn't say I'm very excited about it," she said to Rhett, stabbing the spoon into the chocolate cream. "Curly talked me into it." Somehow. "But I'm not bidding on anyone. If I wanted to see any of the Stooges, I can do so at any time. I have their numbers."

* * *

"Aw, why miss out on half the fun? Don't you want to take some beefcake out and have a good time?" He winked, reaching for his water. As he drank, his eyes scanned the surrounding table for suitable lure. "Like for example… that guy." He pointed to a tall, long-haired guy with a square chin, chiseled like a Greek god. Rhett leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Amar Viper. You've heard of him, right? Leader of the Rogues? Sula Hook's occasional boy-toy? Wouldn't you like to know what it's like to be on a date with someone like him?" Someone dangerous. Rhett smirked, briefly considering bidding on the guy himself just for a laugh.

* * *

Of course she had heard of Amar. He was the hulking son of an evil Vizier, by all accounts planning on being just as bad as his dad, and though Rose tried to stay away from rumours, she did know that Ursula had 'claimed' him in a way, and that any girl he was remotely friendly to risked incurring her jealous rage. Not that Amar was friendly to girls for more than one night. Allegedly.

"No, thank you," Rose declined with a roll of her eyes. "I've never truly understood the whole 'bad boy' appeal. Why would anyone want to date a person who didn't treat them right?" Oddly, she seemed to be a minority on this, if Cat and other girls whispering through the hallways were to be believed. Not that Rose was an expert on dating – or had any experience in that regard at all, for that matter – but if someone was being a jerk to her, dating him would be the farthest thing from her mind.

* * *

Rhett almost laughed. "But you can change him!" he said in an over-the-top dramatic voice, then snickered some more. Chicks loved a project. "Come on, princess, don't you ever take chances?" A possibly pointless question. Rose was very… vanilla. If he hadn't seen proof that there were seeds of something more interesting underneath, he would be bored to death of her. But that was the draw. Lots of girls were volatile hormone containers charged to the brim with mood swings and explosive out-of-nowhere tantrums. Rose was contained. Polite. The perfect little princess. Her clothes were never wrinkled, her hair was never messy, her school bag always organized, she had never once been late to class, and she even fucking spoke with perfect articulation. There weren't many, scratch that, any girls like that, so rigid and by-the-books, and it made it a challenge for him to figure out what made her tick, to discover her buttons and her triggers. In the weeks since she first caught his eye, Rhett had also looked into the Three Stooges and was surprised to find that that Curly guy she talked about was absolutely her polar opposite – kinda hyperactive, loud, a bit of a clown. How in the name of John had that guy and this girl become friends? They had nothing in common! It was mystifying, and intriguing, and for the first time in who knows how long, Rhett was interested in someone again and wanted to know more about the pair and how this odd friendship came to be.

* * *

"I take chances!" Rose protested. Then she paused to think about it. "Okay, so they're more like calculated risks, but I do take them occasionally." Her eyes trailed Amar. "But really, what would I do on a date with someone like him? I don't even know him!" What an odd choice for Rhett to suggest. The princess looked to him again, deciding she ought to respect his choices if going out with strangers was his idea of fun. "Are you in the Boys Auction? Aren't you the least bit nervous that you won't like whoever buys you?" Rhett probably wouldn't be a bad option for a date. He was funny and friendly; he'd be able to show most girls a good time. Rose briefly thought about who she could possibly bid on. There was always Max and the Stooges. But really, that would be pointless, as she saw all four of them on regular basis. Rhett on the other hand was only an occasional presence in her life, so maybe a date with him wouldn't be that bad. Especially since… Rose had never been on a date before. She had signed herself up already, there was no backing out of that, but maybe it would be a good idea to go out with someone she already knew just as a sort of practice for whoever got her in the Girls Auction?

* * *

Rhett grinned. "But that's what's fun about it! You get to know someone new! Yes, there is always the risk they'd be boring as dirt, but you never know when you might find a diamond in the rough." Like Rose. Someone that seems utterly uninteresting but obviously held potential. Her question about his own presence in the auctions amused him, and he laughed heartily. "You thinking of bidding on me?" he said playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. "Not that I'd stop you. Please, do shower me with your money!" Actually, she might be an interesting date. It'd give him more time to prod at her limits, try to get a rise out of her again. The thought almost made him giggle. Buuut…

His gaze crossed the room to linger on his roommate and his sister. The pretty, pale princess was laughing at something her brother said, a healthy salad and a bottle of water arranged on the tray before her. So far he hadn't really interacted with her, thanks to Isaiah's fierce protection, but he was eager to get to know her a bit and convince her that he really wasn't such a bad guy. There were rumors circulating the school about his father's death, and Iolanthe seemed to believe them, judging by the startled look in her eyes whenever they passed each other in the hallways. Rhett's eyes returned to Rose, and he gave her an easy smile. For the time being, he'd have to prioritize. Charming the Charming Princess had to come first; there was plenty of time to get to cracking Rose's shell.

* * *

He had a point. First impressions could be wrong, and there was always the chance it could be a positive experience. But still, she wasn't too keen on the idea.

"I might," Rose replied with a slight smile at his suggestion. "But the money goes to charity, not to you. Though I suppose it might stroke your ego to have a hefty sum next to your name on the check." The way his eyes wandered behind her was not lost on the princess, and she turned around, following their trajectory. "Is this the girl you're thinking of bidding on?" she asked when he looked back to her. The girl in question was instantly recognizable as one of Moe's frequent photography models, and, as far as Rose knew, his only other female friend. Iolanthe was her name, and she was a senior. Other than in Moe's pictures, Rose had only seen her in Choir and down the corridors of the school, though the two had never spoken. She wondered briefly if Moe would have the nerve to try bidding for a girl and thought that if he did, he would probably go for Iolanthe. Was Rhett thinking of being on the opposing side? Rose's mind raced to try and think of a way to possibly dissuade him if that were the case – Moe had enough trouble with girls as it were.

* * *

"Jealous?" Rhett laughed and winked at Rose. "Not to worry, Rosie, there's plenty of me to go around. Though it'd be interesting to compete with Curly over who can show you a better time." He didn't know who Rose was going to bid on, but making the assumption was the best way to figure it out – she was sure to correct him if she wanted to go for someone else, or at the very least it'd get her talking about who she was considering. Even if Rose said she wasn't going to bid, she had made that comment about possibly winning him, so things were clearly not set in stone.

* * *

The mention of Curly made her laugh, as she just now remembered a conversation she'd had with him on the same topic only yesterday. "Oh, you can compete with him over Iolanthe. He said he might go for her." Well, his first choice was actually Cat, but if someone outbid him for her, he said he was going to try for the pretty senior. His reasoning was that he wanted to get to know girls who were close to his friends (in this case Rose and Moe), and who he had never talked to before. Curly and Cat were both outgoing and cheerful, so a date between them would definitely be fun for both, and the thought made Rose smile.

Then her brain caught up to the implications of his comment. "And I told you already, I'm not going to go for Curly, I can see him at any time. There would be no point in bidding on him, and he probably won't bid on me." She began thinking of possibilities again. "I could possibly bid on this guy I know, Max, but I know he's involved with someone, even if I'm not sure who, so I wouldn't want to get in the way of that if the girl in question wants to get him." Max was a bit elusive and secretive when it came to this mysterious person, and Rose had never pressed the issue. "Larry and Moe both need to have more interactions with girls," she went on, digressing a little. "Larry doesn't like people very much, but he can charm any girl, though at times it seems forcing him to talk to them is the only way for him to do so." Or at least it seemed that way to her. "And Moe really does simply need the interaction. Experience in dealing with girls, at least." No need for elaboration why there. "And I honestly am not very keen on going out with a stranger."

* * *

Interesting. "Ah, so it's me or nothing?" He rather liked the sound of that. "You melt my heart, Rosie." With a dramatic, sweeping gesture, Rhett put a hand over his chest, illustrating his point. "I'll go out with you anytime, Flower Petal, just give me a call! If you book sometime in the next two to three weeks I'll even do it for free." He laughed.

The idea of competing with Curly for Iolanthe sharpened his desire to do so. Rhett liked competing. He just didn't like losing. "I really ought to meet this guy," he added outloud, more to himself than to her, downing some more water. "He sounds like a great time. Seems a bit too much for you though, like the sort of hyperactive annoyance that might bother you." His eyes locked with Rose. "Why do you hang around him? What does a quiet, bookish princess like you find in a guy like him?"

* * *

The question caught Rose off guard, and she just stared at him for a few moments. His green cat-like eyes were almost hypnotizing, compelling her to tell him the truth. "I… I haven't really thought about it." Rhett had a point. Loud, in-your-face people used to annoy her before Curly. Why was she suddenly okay with them? Because they reminded her of Curly, came the swift answer. "I suppose… he makes me laugh." A weak explanation if there ever was one, but Rose didn't feel like elaborating. "Why does it matter?"

* * *

Rhett shrugged. "It doesn't, I suppose. Just found it curious, is all. Don't friends usually have things in common?" His voice was perfectly nonchalant, but he was dying to know. Luckily, he was pretty good at hiding his true intentions. There was a second reason, other than sheer curiosity, that made him want to know. From what Rose told him, Curly could talk her into anything. He needed to learn that guy's secret! It was hard to imagine Rose with an even bigger stick up her butt, but if she did have one how did he manage to get such a prim and proper girl to trust him? Rhett had to know.

* * *

Rose looked away. "I wouldn't know," she said quietly. "I've never had friends before."

Suddenly, something exploded two tables over. Two girls whose names Rose didn't know were arguing, their shouts bouncing off the walls. It seemed like they both wanted to get the same guy in the auction? Before Rose was able to make sense of the argument, one of the girls flung a spell, and a massive wall of ice materialised in the middle cafeteria, but the other gir countered with a fireball. Most of the students barely looked up from their meals; this sort of thing was more or less a common occurrence. Rose, however, eyed the ice warily. If fire came into contact with that, it would melt into….

"I have to run, I have Elvish," she said hastily, getting up. "I'll talk to you later?"

* * *

Rhett was watching the Fire and Ice drama unfold, hoping teachers wouldn't get wind of it and break it off too soon. He barely registered that Rose was leaving, but his attention was on something else now anyway. Flashing her a toothy grin, he said, "Sure" to whatever it was she asked and turned back towards the action as the princess left.

* * *

-O-

The Study Hall wasn't very crowded when Rose and Curly made their way there after Elvish class, but there was a group of Rouges there already, talking loudly and arguing. If she were alone, Rose would sit as far away as she could, but Curly knew some of them – because of course he did – and took a seat relatively close. So, naturally, Rose sat next to him to wait for Moe and Larry.

"So, what's new? I haven't been keeping up with the Jones'," said a tall, slim girl with waist-long black hair and a rather bored expression.

"nothing. still bunch of sex violence, lies and BULLSHIT," Ursula replied. "plus school shit."

The other girl was not impressed. "Lame."

Magenta, a blonde, blue-eyed and rather innocent-looking Rogue who, according to many, was not the brightest crayon in the box, giggled. "Shhhh, don't forget about Amar's secret not-so-secret lover, Tamsin."

This prompted Curly to jump into the conversation too. "Magenta... are you trying to get that girl killed? Sula's crazy. Even if it's not true, she'd probably hurt Tamsin just on principle."

Rose almost groaned. Why did he always have to get involved? She shot a look at the girl they were talking about, Tamsin Little, who was huddled next to Amar. She seemed like a sweet girl, and Rose wondered for a moment why she always seemed to hang around the hulking son of the infamous Vizier.

Magenta didn't seem to take his words very seriously. "Oh come on, Curly, Sula doesn't pounce unless she has evidence. It's just a Slut Rumor anyway, all the sluts have been talked about."

"Um. Pretty sure she nails girls to the wall, and that's not just a figure of speech, just for rumors." Curly said.

"Agh," Husniya, the black-haired girl, huffed with a roll of her eyes. "Maybe Amar should concentrate a little less on his Little Man and a little more on the important things. Say, checking out what kind of private information the FG has in her office...? Just a little ear worm that you didn't hear from me."

"What private information?" Magenta piped up. "Why do think I'm always "getting into trouble"? I do it on purpose...Full access to FG Office all the time. All Rogues play their parts."

Curly almost laughed. "Full access? I don't think the FG is stupid enough to leave a Rogue alone in her office to snoop. If you think you've got full access, the FG is playing you."

"Who says FG knows I have full access?" Magenta grinned. "It's called snatching the key when I need it. Besides, FG feels responsible for me." She made a gagging sound.

Curly was not backing down. "I stand by my reasoning. If you think you have full access because of something the FG did, she's playing you. That key probably doesn't get you into nearly everything she has. Also, the FG feels responsible for all of us. We are kind of her responsibility, after all. She's in charge. Our parents send us here because she's here. It's her job to be responsible for us."

And, it seemed like Ursula had had enough. "sweetheart. the fg might be a drunk bitch but there is a reason why she is the headmaster of andover. why she is the bitch running the joint. listen to the stooge, madge."

As had Husniya. "Magenta, you don't want me to answer why I thought you were always 'getting into trouble.' I don't know who's handing out points or what they're for, but I feel like there's a few that should be lost for stupidity."

"I'd rally for points to be placed on the person, not the status group because Rogues would be so far in the hole with points due to the stupidity I've just heard," a deep voice rumbled, and for the very first time, Rose heard Amar, the leader of the Rogues, speak. "Breaking into the FG's office? The bitch has that place magically spelled out and it'd probably take me and Sula weeks to gain full access. Hussy and Genta... 10 points lost." His eyes fixed on Husniya. "And don't fucking worry about who my time is focused on. You go ahead and fool yourself into thinking you're obtaining secret information from the FG, Hussy. Let me know how it goes when you follow up on that information and found out the FG tricked your ass and don't forget to include how stupid you feel for believing in yourself. Also, anyone say something on Tamsin again and I can swear to you, I'll hit your ass with a spell so hard you won't be able to say anything else."

Husniya seemed far from impressed. "Damn. I guess I had better shut my mouth, lest Amar shut it for me. But, I'm already losing points for stupidity, so what do I care anyhow? Just because it would take you and Sula weeks doesn't mean someone else couldn't do it in less. I hear there's an average that can grant wishes; if we scratched his back, maybe he could scratch ours. There's plenty of loopholes, plenty that you've been missing since you've been preoccupied with other holes. As for your sweetcakes, no one is off limits, Amar. I would have expected you to know that, is all."

Husniya's words hung in the air.

_No one is off limits._

Rose heard herself speak before she had even made the conscious decision to open her mouth. "Kindly leave the wish-granter out of your schemes; he never asked to be involved in them. If you are as clever as you claim to be, find your own way into off-limits areas."

The group of Rogues turned their attention to her, and they suddenly seemed very, very scary. And yet, Rose pushed down on it and kept her face straight and her gaze on Husniya, eyes firm and devoid of hesitation.

"Kindly leave your nose in a book, princess," Husniya said. "If the wish-granter wants to be left out he can tell me himself."

Of all the people who could have spoken up at that moment… the one who did so first was Amar. "Kindly jump off a cliff before I push your ass off myself," he snapped at Husniya.

Next was Ursula. "amar. ignore her. if she wants to be a fucking idiot, let her."

"Ah, the knight in shining armor come to save the pretty, pretty princess, but whose only advice is the silent treatment." Husniya replied in her usual sarcastic tone. "Well done. I am defeated."

Amar simply turned forward. "I'm done."

The petite girl next to him chuckled softly. "Awww, Ba-Amar. Are they picking on you?"

Before things could escalate any further a large group of students entered the Study Hall and took their seats, breaking up the argument. Larry and Moe made their way to Curly and Rose, and for the moment, it seemed like the whole thing would soon be forgotten. But it wasn't.

On her way to lunch one chilly Wednesday a few days later, Rose saw a that crowd had formed in the hallways around Fa Liling, the leader of the Preps, as she was putting up a large poster.

"All the winners are up!" she announced happily, moving out of the way to students could see who they had won a date with for the Valentine's Day charity auction.

Rose saw the Stooges and made her way to them, then stood on her toes to make out the list.

**MARIS SPARROW & DOMINIC TURNER**

**MAGENTA WOLF & AMBROSE TYLER**

**ZAI MANGANI & CARTER HIGHTOPP**

**FA LILING & GIUSEPPE GEPPETTO**

**ROSE WALTZ & ISAIAH CHARMING**

**IOLANTHE CHARMING & RHETT HEART**

**CATHALINA RHODES & CURRAN FITZHERBERT**

**TAMSIN ROSE LITTLE & LAWRENCE DESROSIERS**

**ELISE WESTERGARD & JO LEGUME**

**HUSNIYA DE VIL & MOSES NORTH**

Curly's face was one of pure shock. "MOE!" he exclaimed, wheeling on his friend. "How the hell did you wind up bidding on  _Husniya_?! Much less  _winning her_?"

"Uh... Make A Wish Foundation," Moe mumbled.

Rose tried to contain herself, but she had the exact same face as Curly. "Erm... it's not that we're not supportive of your choice, Moe, we  _are_ ," she cast a quick warning glance at Curly, "but... that girl is... I mean, are you sure about this?"

Heels clicked against the floor behind her, and someone spoke. "That girl is what? We can have a good time, can't we Moses?"

Rose turned around, only to find herself face to face with Husniya De Vil. The princess' posture straightened, and her voice came out clear and serious. "If you try to coerce or force him into anything he isn't comfortable with, I will put an arrow through you."

Another female voice chimed in the silence that followed her words, and it took Rose a second to realise that it was Tamsin. "Wow. Really protective of him, huh? That's really sweet."

"I like overprotective Rose just as much as I like drunk Rose!" Cat exclaimed from somewhere nearby.

"Rose," Curly said, "I think making friends with you ranks in the top three best decisions of my life." Then he glanced quickly in Moe's direction. "It's like putting a teddy bear with a wolverine. There's the tiniest chance that it will end in something cute and sweet, but mostly you're thinking that teddy bear is going to get ripped to shreds."

Moe frowned and crossed his arms. "I won't rip her to shreds."

"...Yes, Moe, that's exactly how I meant that analogy."

* * *

-O-

Rose's phone

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

Hey Cat. So I take it you've heard the winners for the Girls' Valentine's Day auction have been announced? I think I told you, but I've never been on a date before, so would you mind if I ask you some questions? I'm not entirely sure how this works.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

Rose, after all we've been thru together, no questions are off limit to you... Hahaha Of course I'll answer. What's on your mind?

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

Well... firstly, what do you  _do_ on a date? What makes it different than hanging out with a friend? Am I supposed to bring anything? I've heard things about presents and flowers and the like. What's the dress code? Are there subjects of conversation I ought to avoid?

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

I would consider this as more of just a meet up/hangout than a typical date that they show on TV shows. Think of it as a Friend Date. Dress code depends on what you have planned. Do you know what you're going to be doing? Guys usually get girls flowers on dates as a nice sort of gesture. It's not customary for girls to present flowers to guys... I don't think I've ever met a guy who wants flowers. Haha Conversations are casual. Get to know him. If you ask him his favorite brand of toothpaste, please message me with how that goes! LOL

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

No flowers; ask about toothpaste. Got it.

He hasn't gotten back to me about what he wants to do. I would love to visit the Science Center, I hear they have a great Planetarium, but I feel like he might find that too boring. I don't know much about Isaiah Charming, but he's kind of a thrill-seeker, isn't he?

What about clothes? What should I wear? I would be more comfortable in a dress, but it is still the middle of February...

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

No! Don't ask about toothpaste! I was joking! haha Ask about hobbies.

The Science Center would be fun to just explore around since that is something you're interested in. Who doesn't like science? And, no, that wasn't sarcasm.

Really? Small world. I have a date with him too. Except, I'm going to dinner with him. He's a Rogue, darling. We all like to walk on the wild side a little. I'm sure he'll be a gentleman with you, though. Guys with sisters tend to have more manners and respect for girls.

Go in a comfortable dress. Do you have any sweater dresses? Or anything you can pair with leggings?

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

What's wrong with toothpaste? Okay, hobbies, I'll go with that. How long do these date things usually last?

Oh, you do? I'm even more nervous now. Compared to you, I'm probably a terrible date.

No on the sweater dress, but yes on the leggings. I went through my closet for something less formal. Hold on, I'll send you a picture.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

Absolutely nothing is wrong with toothpaste. In fact, if he has a problem with toothpaste, we're both in trouble on our dates. Haha Though I'm sure that isn't the case.

Dates usually last about 2 to 3 hours? Depending on what you do. The typtical dinner and a movie tends to run on the longer side but it honestly just depends on conversation and how fast you two can make it thru the science hall.

Don't ever compare yourself to anyone, Rose. You're sweet and you're funny and you are one hell of a singer. He'll adore you. Espeically in that dress! That is cute. What size do you wear because I may be coming for that dress, not too short, just right. Do you have dark grey or black leggings to throw underneath it to keep you warm?

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

 _Hours?_  What are we supposed to do for three hours, just talk? (I will never survive this dating thing) And I probably wouldn't make him go there, I don't want this date to be a bigger bore than it will inevitably end up if he has to be alone with me for more than twenty minutes.

I have black leggings, yes. And I'm a size 6, feel free to borrow anything you want, I have too many clothes anyway. I've never even worn some of these dresses, or have, but only once. I'm not sure how my wardrobe got this out of control... maybe I should donate some to charity.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

You will survive it! Rose, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You truly are great. You just have to have more interation. Come out of your shell a little... Just... promise me no wine? We'll save the wine for girls nights! Haha speaking of which, I still owe you dinner. Maybe after your date, one night you can come over here and we'll talk? You can meet Elise. (Annnd if you get stuck on conversation... txt me and I'll help you as much as I can)

A size 6? That'll work! Whaat? More like that one you just sent? I might come raid your closet. :D

Ha. You should see my closet. It's overflowing and I still buy more! It's a girl thing, I believe.

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

 _Lord, no._ No more wine. Ever. Well, no more than one glass per night. The morning after was _murder_.

Sure, I'll visit you after it's done. Maybe drown my embarrassment in cupcakes. I really hope it's not a complete failure. Though, Curly told me he won you in the Girl Auction, so you're at least guaranteed one fun date. Show him a good time, will you? He complained that the girl that got him in the Boy Auction didn't get his jokes.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

HAHAHA! The morning after is always torture. Water is truly your best friend.

I'll make sure we have cupcakes... and vegan cupcakes for you. Are those even good, by the way? Just seems weird. But the cupcakes will be to celebrate the success! Not failure. Think possitive, girl.

He did. I was surprised but also very relieved. Curly seems fun.

*Gasps in horror* Poor Curly! I bet he felt like a fish out of water with her. That must've been awkward and uncomfortable. I will promise to show him a good time as much as I can and I will laugh at his jokes. Did he tell you how well his date went with the other girl?

* * *

Text from  **Rose** :

I don't think I've never had a vegan cupcake. I'm just a vegetarian - I have no problem with animal produce, just with meat.

Curly said she gave him a headache. He had to dial back on his sense of humour so he wouldn't confuse her and just couldn't be himself. Going out with you will hopefully cheer him up some :)

Thanks for the tips. I'll tell you how it went when I come over.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

I'm buying one just so I can taste it. I'm curious now. haha

Aw! Now I definitely have to ensure he has an amazing time.

You're welcome. I can't wait to hear how it goes. Have fun!

* * *

-O-

Cathalina's phone

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

Hey Curly. I just saw the annocement sheet. You won a date with me. Aren't you the lucky devil!... or unlucky? Hahaha jk What would you be interested in doing?

* * *

Text from  **Curly** :

Hellooooooo, Cat! :D Mostly just thought it would be a fun opportunity to get to know you better. You managed to get Rose drunk and arrested, all in the same night. We ought to be able to manage something just as fun, right? I'm up for most anything. So long as it's not the kind of illegal that gets us into major trouble.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

I take soooo much pride in being able to say I was the first person to ever get Rose hammered. Arrested was just the product of having such a good time. :P Of course we'll be able to have fun! I promise not to get you too wasted. Hehehe Do you like to skate, sir? Have you ever been ice skating?

* * *

Text from  **Curly** :

First, and most likely last. She's vowed never to do that again. XD

Corona is generally fairly warm, so there hasn't been much opportunity to go skating. Been just enough to know how not to fall on my ass. :D Ice skating sounds awesome.

* * *

Text from  **Cat** :

HAHAHAHA! She told me how the morning after was for her and i think it'll probably take a lot more convincing if I ever try to get her drunk again. I won't torture her with that for awhile though. I think I'm still mildly recovering. :P

Awesome. How about we meet up there? I'll meet you at City Park at 6pm tomorrow? Dress warm.

* * *

Text from  **Curly** :

Ah, so drinking is probably off the table for us too.

Sounds good! Warm clothes, City Park at six it is.


	23. Chapter 23

The tall woman walked silently among the tall trees, holding the hood of her billowing black cloak with one hand so the night breeze wouldn't knock it back. The yellow light of the cottage window gleamed in the darkness, guiding her to her destination. An owl hooted in the night.

She stood before the wooden door and raised her fist to knock. After a minute, someone moved inside and she could hear the shuffling of feet.

"Who bothers a lonely old man this late at night?" came a scratchy voice from the other end.

"An old friend's daughter," the woman replied. "I used to eat your meat pies from your knee when we came to visit."

The voice muttered something unintelligible and she could feel the stir of magic in the air. Metal clinked on wood as whatever locking mechanism the man had employed was disarmed, and the door swung slowly. Its frame revealed a thin, slightly hunched old man in green overalls and a checkered shirt. His watery blue eyes widened in surprise as he took her in, the hand gripping a gnarled walking stick tightening around it. He was older than she remembered him, more frail. His once thick brown hair was now mostly white, and his face and hands bore the marks of old age.

"It's been a while, Lars," she greeted him.

"I thought you were supposed to be dead," the old man replied, notes of amusement ringing clear in his voice as he stepped aside to let her in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The cloaked woman smirked in response. "I assure you, the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated."

She walked inside the warm cottage and headed to kitchen without taking so much as a second to orient herself. The smell filling the large space was different than what she remembered, but she still couldn't help but smile at the big, familiar furnace, burning brightly as it always had, and the numerous cooking utensils strewn about on the long wooden table. The woman took a seat, the one her father usually sat at when he was still alive, and turned her eyes to the door, where Lars appeared shortly, having reinstated the magical locks.

"There's something different about them," the woman said, inclining her head toward a shelf where half a dozen pies were cooling, steam still rising from their golden-brown crust.

Lars grumbled under his nose as he walked over to one of the cupboards and took out a cup, setting it in front of her. "Slow year. Since that damned fairy opened shop nearby it's been harder to get good quality ingredients."

The woman arched one delicate eyebrow in question. "So what's in those?"

"Squirrels," he replied grumpily, reaching for the kettle, which was already on the table next to his own half-empty cup, and pouring hot tea in hers.

She held back a chuckle. "How is Callum? I haven't seen him since we were kids."

Lars huffed a laugh, reclining back in his chair and bringing the tea to his lips. "Since when do you care? You always hated his guts. I knew your father well, and if you're anything like him, you've come here for a reason, and it's not to ask after my wayward son or just for my pies. So, what do you want?"

The woman smirked again, reaching for her own cup. "Right to the point, then. I thought we could help each other out. I've always been very fond of you and your… particular brand of cooking."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "You want me to bake for you?"

She shrugged. "Not for me. You can keep the goods, as far as I'm concerned. I would just like you to use  _my_  ingredients."

Lars stared at her for a long minute, studying her as she drank calmly and waited for his answer.

"Why?" he said finally.

The woman traced the edge of the cup with her finger, stalling. "I have my reasons. I will deliver, and you will bake. Do we have a deal or not?"

"If you're trying to set me up for—"

"It's not a set up. It's something I've tried and failed to get rid of on my own. You're not the only one in whose affairs that pesky fairy keeps meddling. I can't get inside, so I must be a little more... creative."

The old man's eyes widened with realisation, and then he relaxed once more. "Ah. You want a pie with swan meat. It all makes sense now. So it's true, then? She's here?"

The woman nodded. "I will make sure the girl finds her way here. When she does, I want her gone, quietly. You've always been good at leaving no trace."

Lars placed the cup on the table. "And if she is anything like  _her_  father?"

"She is not," the woman said dismissively, rolling her eyes. "Rest assured, she's just a girl. She has neither magic nor any skills to speak of. She'll hardly be any trouble for you."

"If that's true, how come you've already failed once?" he questioned immediately.

The woman's upper lip curled in a snarl. "It was not  _she_  that foiled me."

"Right. And what happens if that foil makes their way here with her?"

"Then you take care of it," the woman said sharply. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a bunch of schoolboys!"

"Heh. I'm not, but they certainly seem to have your feathers ruffled."

"They are children!" she snapped. "I would have had their hides if I could afford the commotion!" The woman took a deep breath while the old man across the table observed her with mild amusement. "This needs to be done  _covertly_. Taking too much attracts unwanted attention. I trust you understand."

Lars took a second to choose his answer. Then he nodded. "Covertly. Your meat, my recipe. I'll save you a piece of Swan Pie. For old time's sake."

* * *

~O~

When you actually did it yourself, shopping was surprisingly tiring. Rose sat down on one of the many empty benches in the courtyard, letting out a heavy sigh. Cat had dragged her shoe shopping today, and it was ten times more exhausting than her training sessions with Max. Rose had always had things delivered to her, and the novelty of physically browsing and trying on pair after pair was both exciting, fun and surprisingly draining all at the same time.

Still. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping in the trees, and the sweet aroma of early-blooming plants lingered in the air. In her opinion, after the last gruelling couple of hours—which were spent mostly inside—she deserved a few moment of peace. Rose leaned back on her hands, looking up to the clear, blue sky. She wondered idly how long it would take for the four pairs of shoes to be delivered, and lifted a hand to adjust the wide brim of her straw hat so it would protect her better from the glare of the late afternoon sun. Then she leaned back once more, closing her eyes and listening to the music of the songbirds, as locks of her blonde hair twirled in the slight breeze.

* * *

Bumbling along, not unlike a bee drunk with nectar in spring, Larry crossed paths with Rose in the garden. He hadn't seen her at first, nor she him, apparently. For just a second he stopped to appreciate her beauty in the garden amongst the other flowers. His mind could wax poetic about the Olorian princess, painting pictures with words in his mind about the sun having come to live in a garden, the loveliest rose among all, but he dismissed the notions. Rather suddenly he was reminded of how he had behaved with her doppelganger and guilt almost drove him to leave without a word.

That would hardly be fair, considering that Rose had nothing to do with that situation. He told himself more than once that it was the witch's forwardness that had coaxed a reaction from him, not necessarily the face she wore. Hating himself when it happened, he awoke more than once from a dream of the witch bearing Rose's face being all that he could remember, in quite a state. Honestly, he wasn't stuck on Rose, but it seemed that his only sexual experience had left it's mark, Rose or Not-Rose. Gathering his dignity like a shredded blanket, the prince left his hiding spot and let spring bring back his smile.

" _Bonjour_ , Rose," Larry said lightly, attempting not to startle her, "I like your hat.  _Almost_ as much as the one you got for me." The pirate hat was something he treasured, for sure, but her hat was decidedly more practical.

* * *

A familiar voice interrupted her silent repose, and a wide smile bloomed on her face even before she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Larry!" Rose said happily, almost jumping to her feet. "You're back!"

The fatigue of the day was erased in an instant, replaced with elation at seeing him again. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed as if he had been avoiding her lately. She wouldn't go as far as to say that he went to Rome just to get away from her… but the fact that he did didn't help matters. The princess had a suspicion that what happened in down in the catacombs still haunted his mind, the way it haunted hers, though for different reasons.

Rose would be lying if she said that she hadn't been sad when she learned how he'd abandoned her. That she hadn't felt angry, hurt,  ** _betrayed_**. The rational part of her knew that it wasn't his fault, not entirely, but the emotional, vulnerable,  _wounded_ side just wanted to curl up in bed and never trust anyone ever again, never give another person the opportunity to hurt her this way.

However… no matter what he'd done, what he'd said or how he'd acted… Larry was still her friend. She couldn't flip a switch and turn it off, couldn't just sever their connection, and although Rose realised it was borderline pathetic, the truth of the matter was that she liked having friends too much. The three Stooges weren't some random guys, and Rose knew that no one else would ever accept or understand her the way they did, each in his own different way.

No one else could appreciate a quiet reading hour in the library, no one else had a witty remark about everything, and no one else was of the same mind as her about so many things. No one but Larry. So, if letting this slide was what it took to keep him… then so be it.

To that end, Rose had shut the matter from her mind, forced herself not to dwell on those dark feelings. The way Larry had started to keep his distance though, or so it seemed to her, saddened her. This rift between them, this gap, was something the young princess longed to close, to do away with and go back to the way things used to be. She just wanted her friend back.

"Thank you," Rose said in response to his compliment and touched the hat's brim again, the smile never leaving her face. "It's a present from my grandfather. How was Rome? I can't believe you actually flew your Valentine's Day date there! The architecture, the culture… oh, you must tell me all about it!" Trying to reign in her enthusiasm, she added more calmly, "You can leave out the intimate details about Tamsin." Those were personal after all, she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

* * *

"'Intimate details'?" Larry repeated, surprised that anyone had an impression like that about his date with Tamsin. He shook his head, mouth quirked with a smile, "There's nothing to tell. She's a great travel companion, and I hope she mutually consider us as friends, but the truth be told, I think Tamsin is already in love with someone. And if I'm right about  _who_ , even if I were head-over-heels for her, I wouldn't cross him."

That really may not have been Rose's intention, to glean from him about his date, but all the same, Larry felt it important to clarify that. Being so vehement about not having an intimate connection with Tamsin brought to his mind the catacombs and his smile faded just a shade. Would that always be in the back of his mind where Rose was concerned? He hoped not. He'd rather thoughts of her were tied with the ukelele and sweet songs in French.

"But, have you never been to Rome?" Larry asked, surprised despite himself. Being that they were the same in terms of sole heirs to their kingdoms, but knowing that their childhoods had been different, it was somewhat hard to imagine that her parents hadn't visited such a major world city with her in tow. He had explored the city with his mother, and his father, and the pair of them together. In fact, Larry felt, sometimes, that he had lived more of his life in the school than he had spent altogether in the castle that was his home. "...It's beautiful there; the people, the places, the atmosphere."

It was beautiful all over the world; there was really nowhere he didn't like to visit. Granted, he enjoyed a place with plenty of plants much more than a barren desert or cold tundra. Wouldn't anyone with his gift?

* * *

"Oh?" Rose said simply, a bit surprised. Tamsin had bid on Larry after all, and he flew her all the way to Rome on a private plane. Rose knew nothing of romance, other than what she'd read in books, so that had left her with the impression that there was something there. But if he said it wasn't like that, she believed him. A small voice tried to remind her of the last time she believed him without question, but she was quick to silence it.

"I've… never been anywhere," Rose admitted when he asked about Rome. Had this never come up before? "Coming to Andover was the first time I'd even left the Olorian capitol. I've been outside the castle once or twice, but mostly I've staid within its boundaries all my life." Anything she'd wanted had been delivered to her, any members of the court or foreign royalty came to visit her, and when her parents left, she remained under the ever-watchful eyes of Rogers, the royal advisor. Rose remembered that some people thought of it as sad, so she gave Larry a smile as she continued, "My parents always thought it would be too dangerous for me to leave. Truth be told, if it wasn't for my grandfather, they probably wouldn't have enrolled me here either. But I do find it fascinating when you talk about all the places you've visited! How I would love to see the Colosseum in person, the Parthenon… oh, the Trevi Fountain…" Her voice grew wistful and she lost herself in daydreams of Italian architecture for a few moments. Snapping back to reality, she looked at Larry again, excitement sparkling in her eyes once more. "Are they just like the pictures? Did you climb the Spanish Steps? Did you visit the Vatican? Oh, the Sistine Chapel must have been a real sight to behold!"

Rose grew more and more enthused by the second, her questions firing one after another like a well-oiled AK-47. Then suddenly there was a flutter of wings behind her, and a gust of wind hit her back as a raven swooped down from the sky, coming away with her hat between its beak. "Hey!" Rose called after it, running to the tree it perched itself on. As soon as she approached, though, it flew off again, and she had no choice but to follow. "Come back here, you little thief!" the princess said, but every time she came within a few feet of it, the bird always fluttered off to the next tree. On and on she chased it, until the courtyard blended into the forest, though Rose barely noticed, her eyes ever fixed on her target.

* * *

Listening to her rapid-fire questions with a growing smile, he was as caught off-guard by the theft of her hat that all of his answers seemed to have taken wing as well. When the bird landed, Larry thought Rose would have her hat back quickly, so he was in no rush to run after her. But then the bird fled again, and Rose gave chase, and the growing distance was too much not to break into his best sprint to try and catch up.

Every time the bird perched, and Rose almost caught it, and he almost caught Rose, Larry felt as if their trek was getting out of hand. " _Rose_!" Larry hollered, attempting to get her attention, "Rose! Stop, please! I know you'll miss the hat, but that bird will get us lost!"

* * *

Larry's words were stolen by the wind as Rose chased after the bird, always coming frustratingly close right before it flew off again. She didn't know how long or far the pursuit stretched for, but at some point she started feeling an ache in her knees. Rose stopped, leaning with one hand against a thick tree trunk. She panted, out of breath. Wait, when had she become so tired? Her head jerked left, then right. Where was she? Struggling hard to remember which way she'd come from, Rose fell like she was trying to hold on to a dream – the more she thought about it, the faster it faded from her mind. She started to panic.

The bird cawed from up above, leaving the hat somewhere between the branches of the thick oak tree Rose was using for support as it flew away, up, up, until it was lost in the canopy of leaves. A black feather gently swirled down to her feet, but the young princess was too distressed to notice. She was lost and alone, in the eerily quiet, creepy woods, and judging by the fading yellow light… the sun was about to set.

* * *

Having lost his wind at some point and with a painful stitch in his side, Larry trotted through the underbrush looking for Rose. He didn't quite have the breath to call out for his missing friend, but that didn't preclude his stopping to rest. Since his disappointing behavior concerning Rose's doppelganger, Larry couldn't live with himself if he gave anything less than his all in his search. On the subject of giving his all, he had yet to use his power to do some searching. It wasn't like he had the strength (yet) to have all the trees lift up their roots and pull themselves into lines that he could peer around, so his best bet was to try and meditate on what the plants could tell him. They didn't speak, per say, but he could follow the roots, one after the other, like a maze, tree to tree to grass, in an attempt to find Rose's feet in the forest. The process took several minutes, but what used to take half-an-hour at the onset of his training was so much better now.

Having a general direction for Rose, Larry took off, vaulting roots where he could and making his way to the missing princess like dogs were at his heels. "ROSE!" Larry yelled, "ROSE!" Hopefully, she would hear him, and stay in one place. The stitch in his side was forgotten and he had enough breath to force out the name another couple of times. When he found her, though, he almost bowled her over, his speed was so great.

* * *

Just as she was really about to lose her cool, Rose heard someone calling for her. She spun around, her eyes searching the woods fruitlessly. Then, almost without warning, quick footsteps thumped against the hard ground and someone bumped into her from behind, nearly knocking her down. Rose gave out a startled yelp, then turned around to come face to face with her pursuer.

"Larry!" His name left her lips as a sigh of relief. She didn't know he'd followed her, and now that she thought about it, she had left him quite rudely to chase after the bird. "I'm so sorry I ran off like that, I just…" The words hung in the air, unfinished. Rose had no idea what had come over her, and she didn't know how to explain it. Her eyes travelled up to her hat, still up in the tree.

* * *

Larry rocked back on his heels, keeping his footing when he finally found Rose, but only just. He imagined himself hugging her quickly and tightly, but his slight hesitation made him miss his chance. Gaze following hers, Larry saw the hat high above—impossible to climb to—and felt his lips quirk. "The hat? Allow me,  _mademoiselle_ ," he said, stepping up to the trunk of the tree and putting his hand flat on the bark. His power spread up the tree like a blossom opening until he had total control. Then, for fun rather than just shake the hat out of the tree, he decided to put on a show.

The hat found itself on top of a head made of tree leaves, bobbing as if it were taking a walk. It halted, tilted its brim down as if it were looking at Rose, and was then removed from the leafy head in a bow motion by another branch. When it had completed its gesture, it returned the hat to its perch and the tree leaned the same branch down, the sound of wood creaking accompanying it, within reach for its return to Rose.

* * *

His little demonstration of magic made her smile and momentarily forget the situation they were in. Going along with it, she curtseyed as the branch-hand bowed, then, when the hat was finally close enough, had to hold back a giggle as she took it and put it back where it belonged – her head. "Thank you," she said to Larry, beaming at him. Then reality crushed down on her again, and her eyes darted around behind him but there were no landmarks of any kind to help orient her. "Erm, do you… do you know which way…" She kept looking from left to right, but there was no use – all of those trees looked the same to her. It was odd, Rose thought, that she couldn't remember even the general direction. Or the chase itself.

The light was fading fast. A flock of birds fluttered by overhead, startling her, and a lizard darted between the bushes. Something howled in the distance, a long, harrowing sound, and Rose stepped closer to Larry.

Then they heard a friendly, human voice. "What are you kids doing out here so late?"

Turning around, Rose saw a man appear between the trees. His hair was white, but still quite thick and healthy, and his honest, weathered face bore the traces of many laugh lines. He wore simple clothes—a pair of worn jeans and a checkered green shirt—and hobbled along on a walking stick, a basket full of wild mushrooms swinging from his arm. "You aren't students of that prep school, are ya?" he asked, eyeing their attire. "No one in town looks this fancy. Bit of a long way from home."

* * *

"No," Larry lamented, "I ran after you and—"

The stranger appeared right at the same time Larry's words died in his throat. He eyed the man at first with simple curiosity, then stepped a little closer to Rose when he felt the man's eyes sweep over them. Larry couldn't say he didn't trust the man, or that he was even uneasy. He felt, however, that if the man posed any threat to Rose, he ought to protect her from that. "We both go to Andover," Larry answered, no reason to lie, "We should be getting back there now, too. Would you point us to a road that will lead us back?"

Larry had hope of making it back to the school before total dark.

* * *

"Point you to a road?" the man said, his eyebrows travelling up his wrinkled forehead as he let out a short, wheezing laugh. "You plan on walking back after dark, do ya, son? You have any idea what prowls these woods when the sun sets? Those wards your Headmistress places only protect you if you're  _inside_ the school. Every toddler knows not to wander about in here at night."

Rose shifted uneasily, remembering the last time they were in the woods after dark. It ended far from well. "Can you direct us to the town, then?" she asked hopefully. This man was in the woods as well, which meant that his home must be within walking distance.

The man's attention snapped back to her, and he gave her a lopsided smile, his eyes sympathetic, bordering on pity. "You kids really do know nothing about the real world, do ya? You expect two obviously rich, clueless nobles can just prance around in the streets at night without accident?"

"I…" Rose trailed off. The man was making reasonable arguments, but did that mean that she and Larry were doomed to come into trouble? Her hand-to-hand skills were still amateurish at best, and as far as she knew, Larry wasn't taking any self-defence classes. His powers would be very limited there; if someone were to jump them in an alley, they'd be easily overpowered. The woods were dangerous, but the town was possibly even more so, and the sunlight was almost gone.

The old man sighed. "Come on," he said, wobbling along. "You can stay with me for the night. I live just over yonder." He gestured with the walking stick. "It's a good thing I found so many field mushrooms; there'll be enough for dinner," he added over his shoulder.

Rose looked to Larry. A warm meal sounded soooo good right now, but she wasn't going to follow without his okay.

* * *

Kindly old strangers, to Larry, could hide ulterior motives. The Enchantress that cursed his father and gave him his gift, for example, had appeared at first as an ugly crone when she appeared at the castle in the woods on the snowy Christmas years ago. Meddling was not outside of their nature. His gaze was locked on Rose, trying to decide whether she was looking at him to give him a chance to respond and give his opinion, or if she was going and just wanted to know if he would too.

He wanted to say that he wasn't overly fond of mushrooms—despised having to eat them, actually—and brave the woods. Sure, the last time he braved the woods it didn't work out so wonderful, but that didn't mean he wanted to crash at some old coot's house instead of his nice, comfortable bed in his dorm. Taking a guess that Rose would be going, Larry gave a small nod, unwilling to leave her alone in any case, and certainly not with this man. He wouldn't feel right. Even old men could be lecherous.

Larry wondered if anyone would pick up at the school if he had a chance to call.

* * *

Rose returned Larry's nod and followed.

"Name's Lars, by the way," the man said, leading the way through the woods. "So you mind tellin' me how you ended up so far away from where you're supposed to be? Can't imagine that fairy of yours is going to like that very much when she learns."

Rose felt dread flood her like a tidal wave. Oh no. The Fairy Godmother was going to tell her parents, and they were going to be so disappointed in her! Going outside the boundaries, wandering in the forest, alone,  _and_ being outside after curfew! This was going to get her into so much trouble! She bit the inside of her cheek and kept her face smooth. She did something bad, and she would accept the consequences, but there was no point in dwelling on it now.

"My name is Rose Waltz, and this is my friend, Lawrence Desrosiers," she replied, getting the introductions out of the way. "And we just… got lost. There was this bird, and it stole my hat, you see, so I chased it to get it back, and..." Rose frowned thoughtfully. Why had she done that? Yes, she liked that hat, but leaving Larry like she did, hunting it down for an amount of time she couldn't even recall… that wasn't something the prim and proper princess would usually do. She had lots of hats. So why was this one suddenly so important?

"You came in here for a hat?" Lars laughed once again. "Nutty as a fruitcake, the lot of ya. Every generation loses a bit of their collective common sense."

As they walked on, he told them outlandish stories about people foolishly getting themselves in dangerous situations, swearing they were true, until they finally reached a small cottage. "Well, here it is," Lars said, fishing out a key from his pocket and turning the lock. "Home, sweet home."

He ushered them in, slowly closing the door behind him and locking it with many strange mechanisms. Rose eyed them uneasily, then looked to Larry again. Being locked anywhere did not sound appealing, and she wondered if he felt the same.

"Like I said, lots of things you don't wanna meet wander out there," Lars said, catching their silent exchange. Not to worry, though. We're safe in here."

"If it's so dangerous, how come you decided to live in the woods?" Rose asked.

Lars grinned, rather mischievously, and said, "I like a challenge. Makes retirement more exciting when you have to fight off the occasional monster." For a second there, Rose was oddly reminded of Curly. "Come on," he added, hobbling along to one of the rooms, "I'll make you a mushroom pie, and you'll feel all better. People used to flock from all over to try my goods, you know."

"You're a baker?" Rose said, smiling and following without thinking. The association with Curly grew stronger, and it made her want to trust him. She wondered briefly if that's what the prince of Corona would be like as an old man—living in the dangerous woods just for the thrill and making pies. Curly probably wouldn't like the isolated nature of such a life, though. He'd want to stay in touch with his friends.

The room he led them to was brightly lit and welcoming, having a very cosy, homey feel to it. The left wall was taken by a sturdy, wooden table with four chairs, one on each side, while the one opposite one was taken up by a long bookshelf, full with row upon row of thick book spines, worn and faded from use and time. A soft rug covered the floor, and two comfy-looking green armchairs sat upon it in front of a large, stone fireplace. The mantle contained many framed pictures, barely fitting on the narrow space, and Rose recognized a much younger Lars on most of them, posing with people she'd never seen before. A measly fire flickered below them, and Lars knelt down next to it, moving the embers around with a long, metal poker.

"Used to own a pie shop in town," he said, giving her a smile as the flames grew stronger and illuminated his face. "Had a pretty nice thing going. But since the missus passed away and my son left the nest, it just hasn't been the same. Sit yourselves down; I'll get started on dinner."

With that, he hobbled out of the room and left them alone. Rose took off her hat and set it down on the table, then sat in one of the green armchairs, warming her hands on the fire.

* * *

Mushroom pie sounded as appealing as raw mushrooms had, which was to say, not at all. Larry kept his opinion to himself. He'd kept mostly to himself as they picked their way through the forest, seeing the cottage and noting the idyllic charm for what it was. Lars probably kept busy enough just with the upkeep of his land and house.

Despite the easy to believe reasoning behind having a well-barred door, Larry exchanged a look of uncertainty with Rose. No, being locked in a stranger's house was not something that made the prince feel comfortable.

If the outside seemed idyllic, the inside was even more picturesque. He was reminded of the cottages characters found themselves in, in more than one story, but for some reason, all he could recall were the scary ones. The ones where the cottage had something evil within. Chalking it up to nerves, Larry sat opposite Rose and put his hands towards the fire as well. Leaned forward as he was, Larry quietly spoke without turning his head.

"What are the chances we run into a man in the woods...?"

* * *

"I quite like him," Rose said, smiling faintly. "Doesn't he remind you of Curly a little bit? With the baking and the living in the dangerous woods and all?"

Her eyes wandered to the picture frames atop the mantle, and she noticed an object there that her gaze had missed before – a book. She reached for it and opened it across her knees. "Fairy tales," Rose said aloud, looking over the contents. "I've never even heard of half of these stories." The book's pages were worn and bore a slight yellow tint, made even more apparent by the firelight. She flipped the pages slowly, studying the pictures printed on them. One was of a woman taking a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven. Rose's mouth watered just at the sight of food, and she wondered how long it would take for dinner to be ready.

"It was very nice of him to offer to feed us, wasn't it?" she continued, eyes still on the book. "He didn't have to do so. I feel a bit bad for imposing like this on him, though. Do you think we ought to send him some form of compensation tomorrow? Would money be too insulting?" Rose new that some people might find it offensive to be repaid financially for their kindness. Like Moe for example, or Max. Curly would probably just laugh at the idea.

* * *

Like Curly? Lars? No. The old man was dodgy and too  _old_. Curly could never be that old. The notion surprised him, that he couldn't imagine Curly or Moe as men as old as his and Rose's host. Again, he kept his thoughts to himself. Larry's only response to Rose was a slight quirk of his expression to her first question.

The book piqued his curiosity, and he stood to look at it over her shoulder. He'd read plenty of books, and for some moments, it was as unfamiliar to him as it was to her. He had an inkling that he knew the book; a feeling that he had run across it at some point. "When you're done with it, can I see it?" Larry realized that he was standing close enough to disturb the hairs on Rose's head with his words and backed up a pace.

"I could send him to Rome," Larry said dryly, turning away for a moment to think of something correct to say. Right about the time Rose stopped speaking, Larry caught sight of Lars on his way back into the room. Instinct told him to warn Rose, but he had neither time nor the right way to say it.

Lars announced himself anyway. "I was so worried about starting dinner I didn't even think to offer the pair of ya something to drink. I hope Lemonade suits your tastes."

The old man set a pitcher and three stacked glasses on the nearest table and set himself to pouring out the drink. He took a swig of his own cup and started, saying, "Oh! Tastes good, but it'd be even better with ice. You two try it and tell me I'm not right. I'll be right back with the ice." Lars once again disappeared into the other room.

Pale yellow and innocuous, the lemonade was too tempting to simply ignore. Larry lifted a cup and waited for Rose to do the same. "To Lars' hospitality," Larry said, making to toast with the drink and hoping that his jangling nerves were just a by-product of the run into the woods after Rose, and not something more serious, like internal alarms.

* * *

Rising to her feet, Rose joined Larry by the table and lifted her cup in a toast. The lemonade was a bit bitter for her tastes, but she could tell it was natural and not one of those dubious concoctions they sold in plastic bottles.

"Here," she said, handing Larry the book, which she still carried in her left hand. "Have you seen it before?" From the way he'd asked for it, it sounded like he recognized it. Maybe he'd seen it on one of his travels, or maybe the book was simply foreign, because Rose didn't know of any of the tales within. That in itself was odd, as she had read many books and studied history intensively, and most stories people called 'fairy tales' were true. There was the occasional made up fable, meant to teach little kids a lesson, but for the most part such wisdom could easily be found in truth. And yet, the young princess knew nothing of the titles within that book.

She drank again and wandered to the bookshelf, giving Larry space. Her eyes glided over the worn spines. Lars seemed to have a varied taste, or at least a curious mind. Biology, encyclopaedias of wild plants, bestiaries, carpentry, poetry, law, beekeeping. Cook books. Rose smiled to herself.

Turning back to her friend, she said, "Our host is quite the character, isn't he? Not many would choose this kind of life. Where would you retire to, if you could?" For a second, Rose imagined Larry as an old man in overalls and gloves, kneeling down in fresh dirt, gardening outside of a cottage much like this one.

* * *

Lemons, like oranges, grew on trees. Considering Larry's affinity for all things plants, the fact that he had never considered making his own juice was a gross oversight on his part. Having natural lemonade in that moment brought back the feeling that he ought to grow his own fruit.

He set his cup down as Rose offered the volume. Once he got his hands on the book, Larry tried to familiarize himself with the bindings and weight and the texture of the covers, wondering if that would give him a clue about whether or not he'd come across a book like this before. "I can't be sure. I feel like it's familiar, but I'm not entirely certain." Flipping the book open, he browsed the pages absent-mindedly until Rose's voice brought his attention back to the present.

"Um," Larry drew, letting the book shut, "I'm not sure. I think I entertained the idea of a monk's life before. But without the religion. I wouldn't mind the isolation, so long as I had books, and gardening seems to be an art in the far east. That's not likely to happen, but still..." He was bound to his duty as his parents' sole heir as much as Rose was to Oloria and her own. "If I could."

* * *

Rose raised an eyebrow curiously at his statement, then smiled sadly. "I used to think books were enough, too. And they  _were_ … when I didn't know what having friends was like. Wouldn't you miss Curly and Moe if you lived such a life?" She would. A small part of her was dreading the summer, when she knew she would have to go back home and spend three months alone, isolated, like she had been her whole life. Like she would be once they all graduated and left her behind.

Before the young princess had the chance to completely sink into such thoughts, however, their host came through the door, carrying the ice. His eyes darted to the tome in Larry's hands, and for a second Rose thought she saw something like alarm flash in them. Must have been a trick of the light, though, because when he spoke his voice was once again nothing but friendly.

"No books at the table," Lars said playfully, but there was a certain sharpness in his movements as he took the volume away and put it on top of the bookshelf, perhaps not out of reach for a tall guy like Larry, but certainly too high up for Rose to get to without a stepping stool. "You don't talk much, lad," he said to Larry, dropping a few ice cubes in his cup and handing it to him. "Where are you from?"

* * *

"I'm sure I would, given the opportunity to miss them, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Curly and Moe will no more leave me be than I would them," Larry mused, noting the sadness in Rose's smile and adding, rather quietly, "Remind me to tell you the story of how the Stooges met, from my perspective some time."

To say that Larry was startled by the return of Lars would be an overstatement, but to say that he was miffed by the actions of the old codger with the book was an understatement. The prince was unaccustomed to having books taken from him without consent, even whilst being in someone else's home. In the time it took Lars to place the tome away, Larry decided that he didn't like the old man and didn't trust him. Some smaller, more childish part of himself ruefully vowed to have that book before leaving.

"The Rhine-Alps," he answered vaguely, "I've been awake since early-morning; pardon my taciturn behavior." Neither statements were lies, but Larry wasn't forthcoming with the full truth that he really didn't like the situation.

* * *

The promise of the Stooges meeting story made Rose's smile turn warm in an instant, her face lighting up at the prospect. The most she knew of it was from Moe's brief mention that it happened at some sort of summer camp, but oh, she wanted to know more! Hear about them coming together, about them finally finding each other and becoming what she knew them to be. How had she never thought to ask before?

A quick look at Lars as he entered, however, kept her from doing so right then and there. As much as Rose liked their host, this sort of thing, she felt, ought not be shared with strangers. Now was not the time for it.

The ambiguity of Larry's answer didn't seem to bother Lars, as a shadow passed over the old man's face. "Ah," he said simply, taking a seat at the table. "Child of the Beast King." The way he said it was ominous, guarded. Though his posture remained relaxed and his voice casual, Rose didn't miss the tension in his next words. "You transform too?"

Lars did mention fighting off monsters before, and that meant he must have some means of self-defence. Rose's eyes darted to the gnarled walking stick lying against his chair, which the host hadn't needed when on his trips to the kitchen, and it occurred to her that support might not be its only function.

And now Lars seemed to think that  _Larry_ was a threat. To Rose, the very concept was ridiculous – Larry was the most level-headed person she knew. 'He isn't dangerous', she wanted to say, but that wouldn't really be true. While yes, he had demonstrated his magic in mostly harmless, whimsical ways to her, she had felt the ground shake and rumble under his sway, had seen roots emerge from the floor and wrap around Curly, dangling him upside down whenever he annoyed the fair-haired prince too much. It was never serious of course—Larry would never hurt Curly—but against a real enemy his power over plants could be nothing short of deadly, if he wished it.

Lars' eyes moved to Larry as he waited for an answer, giving him a long, assessing look. The tension in the room was almost palatable, the air thick with unspoken danger. Without thinking about it, Rose took a step in front of her friend. "Larry is not violent," she said in an attempt to smooth things over, raising her hands in a peaceful gesture with a small smile. "There's no need to worry, really."

* * *

Larry took offence to anyone calling his father by that moniker. It colored them negatively in his view. King Adam was one of the best monarchs ever to rule their country, and while he still had a temper, everything that had caused the Enchantress to curse Larry's father in the first place had been mellowed out by time and the love of Larry's mother. The king should never have had that name thrust upon him, in Larry's opinion, not when for more than sixteen years the king had been actively working with integrity.

Having a small edge on Lars—the old man thinking he was dangerous somehow—was a small but useful consolation prize. Larry could see that their host was unsettled by the idea, and if it were the only edge Larry and Rose had in a house with a creep, it was what they had.

Rose, Larry decided, was either a genius, or lost them their edge with two statements. Defusing the tension was probably the best at the moment, although Larry was still imagining leaving for the school, so he ruled in the genius favor.

Lars' question tempted Larry to lie, bold-facedly, and without reservation. This man was not endearing himself, despite being a gracious host, and the prince was simply annoyed at the prospect of having to stay the night in the cottage.

"Rose is correct," Larry said, setting a hand gently on Rose's shoulder and hoping that wasn't taking it into the realm of uncomfortable for her—for him it was like his hand was on fire—and continued with, "Although, the Enchantress that set the spell on my father paid me a visit as well." Wondering briefly if Rose knew much about the Desrosiers family, and the history with a certain magic-wielding do-gooder, Larry realized his hand was still on Rose. If he had muttered 'oops', it couldn't have been any more obvious that he hadn't meant to still be touching the Olorian princess; he lifted his hand off her like the heat was suddenly searing. So much for the touch being a worthwhile ploy.

* * *

Larry's hand startled her—as all casual physical contact did, especially when it was unexpected—almost making her jump. That didn't exactly help her case, as it could be misinterpreted as fear, and his comment only added fuel to the fire. Why did he say that?! Was he  _trying_ to get Lars to mistrust them? What good would mentioning that he did in fact have powers do in this situation? Larry was not acting like his usual charming and polite self with Lars, and Rose had no idea why.

The lemonade glass clinked against the wood as Lars set it down. The atmosphere was still unsettling, charged, as the fire threw ever-changing shadows across the carpet. The old man opened his mouth to speak, his eyes still fixed on Larry, and—

_DING!_

The sudden sound of the kitchen timer popped the tension in the room like a balloon. "Ah, dinner is ready," Lars said, standing up, the shadow over his eyes lifting. The air of mistrust around him visibly lessened as he headed for the door. "Sit yourselves down, kids. I'll be right back."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rose let out a sigh of relief. For a second there she was worried the situation might escalate to blows. However, it seemed like their host had decided to take a chance on them after all, and she felt a bit ungrateful for causing him discomfort when he had gone out of his way to help them like this. Rose turned to face her friend, confusion etched across her face.

Larry was acting strange around Lars in general, she realised, thinking back on the events of the evening. He had been quiet, serious, even laconic since they came upon him in the woods. But why? The old man hadn't done anything wrong or malicious, and from what Rose had seen inside his house, he was quite the interesting character. So what reason did Larry have for being so cold towards him?

"What is with you?" she said, shooting him a bemused glance. "Lars has been nothing but kind to us all day; he let us into his home, offered to feed us and to give us a safe place to stay the night, all without wanting anything in return, despite knowing we are both rich heirs. Why do you keep antagonizing him?"

* * *

Larry watched Lars go, feeling too spiteful to accept dinner, but also knowing that to refuse would put Rose in an awkward position. He met her eyes as she asked what he was doing and had the urge to be entirely irrational. The youth settled for working his jaw and letting his eyes slide to the right. "I wasn't lying about being tired," he muttered as if that was a real excuse, knowing that it wasn't. "He guessed pretty quick that we're from the school and we're wealthy, but there's no real reason for him to have assumed we're both royals. The less he knows about us, the more comfortable I'd feel. I was tempted to tell him that I was from Corona." That might have made for a little trouble, considering Larry could retrieve his native accent depending on words and emotion, but he had still had the urge to lie.

"I think I just don't like how convenient it all was: your hat, how deep we went before we got here, and this place in particular. It's an expression, right, that 'things too good to be true usually aren't'?" Larry's eyes went back to Rose's as he asked. Lars could just be getting a cautious flag because of the whole doppelganger incident, but that didn't stop Larry from feeling how he felt. "Being nice doesn't mean not having an agenda."

* * *

His admission of wanting to lie left her surprised. The mention of Corona had her annoyed.

"Lying is dishonourable," Rose pointed out, arms crossing over her chest. "Lars had every reason to assume we are royals, half the school is!" the other half being on the low side of the wealth spectrum, "And how is this too good to be true? We didn't stumble upon a fancy manor, being waited on by a hoard of servants – we're in a simple cottage, given hand-made pies. I may not be familiar with a lot of modern day expressions, but one I do know quite well is 'Innocent until proven guilty'."

While sometimes she kept the truth to herself, Rose was  _always_  honest. Larry hadn't lied, but the fact that he wanted to, that he had even thought of specifics, didn't sit well with her. She hadn't missed the look on his face when Lars took the book away either, and wondered briefly if this suspicion was actually brought on by some juvenile sense of entitlement. But Larry wouldn't be this unreasonable, would he? He was intelligent and logical, if he suspected Lars of ulterior motives, there must be more to it than that, a real reason.

A voice in the back of her head whispered that she ought to trust him. Another reminded her, a bit more loudly, that the last time she did that he left her for dead. She tried to silence it, but the situation made it more difficult than before, where sheer stubbornness and repetition were enough to squelch such thoughts.

"What's more, suspecting someone does not give you leeway to be rude, especially when all you have is baseless assumptions," Rose continued, irritation getting the best of her in the end. "We would be outside in the cold, dark woods if it wasn't for him, and that's how you show your gratitude? He's done nothing to deserve such treatment."

* * *

"Lying is a defense mechanism, Rose. I'm not talking about doing it to your friends and family—that's deplorable—but that's not what this is. I did not actually lie to him," Larry said, feeling as though Rose's words hadn't been said sharply but had the meaning to cut him and make him feel as though he had been behaving badly. He railed against the feeling. "A fancy manor with servants isn't realistic in the middle of the woods. We'd be too suspicious of that. But a quaint little cottage in the woods with a hermit makes sense, even if a man his age should live near town. It's just right for the situation. But the bit about innocence is for suspects of a crime already done. I read something somewhere that stuck with me: always trust your gut—it knows what your head hasn't yet figured out. I don't have a specific feeling about him, but my gut is telling me there's something fishy about all of this."

His voice never rose above his initial low, tense tone. The prince wasn't one to let another imprint their ideas on him. "I could have gotten us home in the cold dark woods," Larry admitted, though it was more of a statement, "I just thought you'd be more comfortable here. I haven't assumed anything about the old man, but I don't trust him." He was irritated right back at Rose.

* * *

"So you admit it, then?" Rose shot back. "You don't have any actual reason to mistrust him, other than your own speculations." She kept her voice low as well, though the annoyance in it was no less audible. "Lars had nothing to do with us ending up here. Or are you trying to tell me that he built his house to these exact specifications just to make us trust him? That's preposterous!"

And he was going off of a 'gut' feeling over his reasonable thoughts? What sense did that make?

"Lying is lying," Rose added stubbornly, "regardless of who you're deceiving. But that's not even the point! You can't just act this way towards someone who has done nothing wrong! I'm not entirely sure what 'fishy' means, but whatever it is, it's not enough to go on, seeing as I have yet to see any signs of malicious behaviour from him. For all we know, he might've saved our lives tonight! Or have you forgotten that the last time we were in the woods after dark you ended up in the hospital and I ended up with nightmares?"

She didn't add that despite his confident statement, a nightly trek through the forest was still a huge risk. She didn't add that on the chance that something did happen, they didn't have a healer on hand this time. She didn't add that his life was something she refused to gamble with.

* * *

Larry's derisive scoff was too low to really mean any offense, but his crossed arms probably would set it over the top. "That is preposterous. No one could fake the general disrepair of this place without it having really aged and been lived in," he gestured to a few places where the notches and scratches and scrapes were irrefutable but had no real interest in discussing the state of the cottage. "But I don't understand why you seem to want to defend him this way. He's a stranger, even if he invited us in and gave us drink and asked us to dinner. You're trusting him so easily, I almost wonder if you're bewitched." Larry's eyes narrowed a fraction as if trying to see some sign that Rose was under a spell.

Although thoroughly irritated and vexed with the Olorian princess, Larry truly was worried about Rose being under another enchantment. The last one had not gone so well for either of them. He flexed his fingers where they were sandwiched between his arms and his chest, answering, "I didn't forget where that walk or those nightmares got us. I had to watch you march yourself right in the arms of a statue that disappeared with you. And when what I thought was you reappeared—" His throat closed up around the words that he would have said, his guilt rearing its ugly head again until he rerouted his train of thought for something else. He'd already kicked the hornet's nest but somehow hoped to escape. "I'm not a fan of strangers in the woods, eight-legged or otherwise."

He knew he  _shouldn't_ have said anything about what happened in the catacombs but he did it anyway. He wouldn't leave Rose here alone, even if she screamed at him to get away from her. Larry had learned his lesson the first time, and he had sworn to himself it would never happen like that again.

* * *

"Not suspecting people without reason means I'm under a spell?!" Rose gasped incredulously, unwittingly raising her voice a little bit. "He  _helped us_ , that's why I'm defending him! At least I have a motive for doing s—"

The sound of footsteps made her stop short of finishing that sentence and, as Lars came through the door, cast her eyes to the floor. She wanted to say a whole lot of other things, like for example how that whole excursion into the catacombs was  _his idea_ , and how that entire mess could have been avoided if she hadn't listened to him, but could not do so in front of Lars. Maybe it was a good thing, because even as nothing more than fleeting thoughts, they sounded bitter and angry in her head. Things she had tried very hard not to feel around Larry as of late.

The old man stopped at the door, sensing the strained atmosphere in the room. "Am I… interrupting something?" he asked hesitantly, heat rising from the pies in his hands in white wisps.

Rose was quick to straighten her posture and smooth her face. "It's quite alright," she said evenly. Then, in an attempt to direct his attention elsewhere, added, "I'm sorry if this sounds ungrateful, but those pies don't have meat in them, do they? I'm a vegetarian."

Lars' eyes darted between them, but he apparently decided not to press the issue. "Yeah, no meat," he replied, setting up the table. "A vegetarian, eh? I used to know this guy, very into the whole animal rights thing; he used to come by so often I ended up creating a recipe just for him…"

Rose smiled and nodded as Lars told his story, asking questions when appropriate, determinately pushing down on the unspoken words festering inside her. She tried not to let it get to her, for Lars' sake, but the argument hung over her like a storm cloud, not helped by Larry's proximity. His mere presence kept reminding her of the argument, and it took a lot of effort for her to create an outward illusion of composure while a storm was brewing inside her.

Time passed as they ate, the faint outlines of the trees outside slowly retreating into inky darkness, until all Rose could see in the window was her own reflection. After dinner, Lars led them upstairs and stopped in the middle of the corridor, right between two doors on the right-hand side.

"Here's where you'll be stayin'," he said to Larry, gesturing to the second door. "Used to be my son's room, but no one has slept in it in years. This," he motioned towards the other one, moving his gaze to Rose, "is the guest room. Hasn't been occupied in a while too, but it's alright for one night. Keep in mind that my old generator breaks sometimes, so if the lights don't turn on and you need to use the bathroom," the old man inclined his head to the door at the end of the hall, "there are candles and matches in both rooms. My room is downstairs; give me a shout if you need anything."

"Thank you, we'll be sure to do so," Rose said politely. "Good night."

Lars smiled and inclined his head in a nod. "Sleep tight."

With that, the old man headed downstairs, the wooden steps creaking under his rough shoes. Rose turned to Larry, unsure of what to say. The meal had done little to ease the tension, and she was still fuming inwardly from his unfair treatment of their host, their little spat was by no means forgotten. Or resolved.

"Well, good night," she said to him curtly, hand already on the doorknob. "Should you come up with more baseless accusations, please wait to tell me in the morning."

That last bit was more than a bit unwarranted, but the effort she had expanded in order to keep it in check and be polite to Lars had worn her nerves quite thin, and now that he was not there to prompt restraint, irritation reared its head once again. Add to that how exhausted she felt from the events of the day and how she was still convinced that Larry was being completely unreasonable, and it was a miracle that she had maintained the calm façade for this long.

Not wanting to argue more, Rose opened the door without waiting for an answer and went inside.


	24. Chapter 24

Larry had no time to make a response to Rose before Lars' footsteps reached audible proximity. He might have told her that most people were suspicious of strangers in the interest of self-preservation, considering even the most innocuous person could be dangerous in the right situation. The stooge was muted, however, by the appearance of the man in the doorway.

Listening to the two of them talk was enough to fill the air, and aside from the minimal small talk answers, Larry said practically nothing. The food was warm but aside from that, the prince really had no opinion on the taste. His mind was on the look that Rose had just before being cut off by Lars' approach. It didn't escape him how some emotion seemed barely contained under the facade of politeness throughout dinner. He regretted arguing with Rose but felt no remorse in not trusting the man who would feed them and put them up for the night. The figurative last nail in the coffin of trusting Lars had been struck home the moment Lars called the prince's father "Beast", even if Larry didn't particularly recognize that bias in his feelings.

They shouldn't fight, Larry thought, worried about metaphorically being a house divided.

Larry followed the procession upstairs and tried to fake some gratitude to being allowed to sleep in a stranger's bed. He stopped at the door and opened it, seeing nothing obvious in the room that he could use as evidence of Lars' insidious nature if he had one. Somehow, he knew that there would be nothing. Either Lars was careful or Larry was wrong about him. But on the principle of how dangerous it was to Rose's health that her trust was freely given, he felt he wasn't wrong.

" _Merci_ ," Larry murmured, watching the old man turn and leave. He was almost afraid to look at Rose and meet her eyes in the end. She was still angry. Being unapologetic in the moment, Larry internalized his own indignation at someone being curt with him, and almost retreated into his allotted room without hesitation. Larry had stepped one foot inside and then felt some sense of dread at Rose being out of his sight. He spun on his feet and ducked into Rose's room before she could close her door.

Scanning the room, he realized he hadn't thought much past this point. "Uh," he stammered, floundering a bit, "Er... I..." Why was he really in here? Because he couldn't stand to be at odds with the third friend he had ever made? Because he'd been uncomfortable with what happened between him and her doppelganger since it happened? "Um, I... I owe you an apology, Rose."  _That? That was his reason?_ "I'm sorry about... about the catacombs... and everything that happened down there." Blanket apology though it was, Larry felt like he couldn't just say that he was sorry that he and her evil-twin-person-thing had almost done the do.

* * *

The guest room was rather plain. A bed, a dresser and a display cabinet full of ornamental plates were the only furniture, though the vivid green curtains hanging on each side of the window did give it some colour.

Before Rose had time to take in any more of her accommodations, however, Larry just burst in after her. She was too startled to react at first, just watching him stand around nervously. When he mentioned an apology, her first instinct was to cut him down by reminding him that  _Lars_ was the one he needed to apologise to, but then he finished his thought with the catacombs. Annoyance instantly got replaced by surprise, and all she could do was blink at him for several seconds, trying to process the statement. Where did this come from?

At the end it was with a sad glance at the floor that she said, "What's done is done, Larry. If I'm being honest, I just want to forget that it ever happened." If only she could. "We don't have to talk about it."

Why was he bringing this up? Why here, why now?

* * *

"I think we should talk about it. I won't push it, but this—" Larry gestured between the pair of them, "—is why I feel like we should. I damaged your trust in me, and I've kept my distance because I haven't known how to apologize." And because the recurring memories or dreams of the doppelganger seemed to keep refreshing his shame daily. The prince wished that reconditioning himself to associate the pain of breaking his leg with dreams of a Rose-look-alike was easier, but Curly healing the leg had meant much less time in pain and a dimming sense of what it was really like.

"I'm sorry I left you in that place. I would have never done it if I understood what would come of it. I shouldn't have let her distract me, and I absolutely should not have done anything remotely similar to..." His eyes found his toes, guilty again. "But especially not with someone masquerading as you. I wish I could take it back because I can feel how uncomfortable it's made things. And I feel like it's led to this evening being the way it's been, directly." Larry looked at Rose again. "I still don't know if any apology will be enough, but I couldn't let it go for longer without saying something."

* * *

Rose didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to  _think_ about it. Or rather… she didn't want to knowledge that it happened. But, being cornered like this… she simply had no choice.

Unable to meet his eyes, she leaned back against the closed door, let out a small sigh, and spoke softly. "I don't want things to be uncomfortable. I don't want you to keep your distance. I just want us to go back to the way we were, but we just… can't seem to move on. I've tried. Really, really hard, in fact, to act normal, to carry on like it never happened, but it's… it's not the same. No matter how hard I try to pretend it is. I  _want_ to trust you again, completely, like I did before, but every time I try I get reminded of what happened, and I just… can't.

"I know it's not a fair comparison, I know the way you feel about me isn't even on the same scale, but I can't help but wonder sometimes if you'd have done the same if it was someone else. If it was Moe down there, or Curly. Would you have left them?" Rose flinched at how unfair that was. They were his  _best friends_. She didn't have any other friends to equate it to, but it wasn't like that for them. The Stooges had something truly special between them, and it was really, really not her place to bring that bond into this. "You know what, you don't have to answer; this was a really unfair question. Forget I said anything." She couldn't,  _shouldn't_ expect him to show her the same level of consideration. It was a very selfish thought.

Rose took in a shaky breath. If she was going to confess... she might as well tell him everything.

"I'm sorry I never said anything. The truth is that I was afraid... because I didn't want to lose you. It was my fault we went down there in the first place, and I thought you might get angry at me, because you helped me out of the goodness of your heart, because you went out of your way like this, and I should be happy you came at all, not... not complaining and... expecting things from you. I was terrified you might just say that I was being ungrateful, that it wasn't worth it to be friends anymore, and..." She sighed. "I didn't want to risk it. So I thought it would be better if I carried on as best I could, try to forget and be glad we all made it out alright."

She paused. Her right hand rose to gently grip her upper arm in an unwitting gesture.

"It's just… you left me to die, Larry."

That was too much. She knew it. It wasn't fair, and it was painful to even say outloud, but there it was—the raw truth of her feelings. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she bit back on them.

"I guess I thought that if I told myself enough times that it didn't really matter, it would be okay."

But it mattered.

Infinitely.

* * *

Larry's stomach felt like it took on the consistency of lead and plummeted to his toes as she talked. It was worse than he could have prepared himself for; Rose was hurt deeply, personally. She thought he left her on purpose. He didn't. By the time he realized that the not-Rose was not Rose, he was a bug caught in a spider's web. As misunderstood as he thought that was, it wasn't important. The importance was that Rose felt like he abandoned her, and that she felt like she couldn't trust him. The damage was real.

Feeling rather like the wind had been knocked out of him, Larry moved to and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, at a loss for better words. He wouldn't pretend like his feelings mattered more than hers, but what could he say to that? He  _had_ left her to her fate while her look-alike did her best impression of a lap dance on him while they were standing. The guilt was doing its best to eat him alive in that moment.

Dragging a hand down his face, Larry looked up at Rose. "I'm so sorry I left you alone. If I could take it back, I would."

Worse still was that she thought that the situation would have been different if it had been Moe or Curly in the Catacombs. It might not have ended with Larry deciding to break his leg rather than have sex with the doppelganger in the hypothetical situation. Might, because Larry hadn't expected that in the first situation. "I haven't known you as long as I've known Moe and Curly," Larry began, his words pausing for a few beats without his full attention. The thought swam on a swarm of memories he had made with the pair of princes in the years he had known them. Snapping out of his mental tangent, Larry finished his thought, "But you're important to me, just like they are. I can't excuse anything I did down under the school. But you're my friend in a way I've never had before, and if you and I stopped being friends, I would lament it as the calamity it would be. I just want you to know that I'm  _sorry_ I let you down."

His eyes met hers as he apologized, hoping she knew how much he really meant it.

* * *

Rose looked away.

"I know."

She could hear it again, that sincerity in his voice. Even when he was cheesy and spoke in that flowery language, it still carried in his words—that was why she had come to believe him so unconditionally, until...

Slowly, the princess made her way to the bed and sat on the edge as well, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. He was right next to her, but it felt like they weren't even in the same room. There was an invisible wall between them, thick, cold, unyielding. Rose looked down to her lap and took in a breath.

"I'm sorry I got the others involved, that was not fair," she said. Rose really did regret mentioning them. "But I don't know if you can even understand... what this all means to me." The only one who truly would was Moe. Still, Rose tried her best to explain it to Larry. "You and I... we're so alike, aren't we? But there's one big difference between us: the way we were raised. You... you've been everywhere, you've seen so many places, cultures, people. And through all of that, you always had your parents, and even if you didn't make truly close friends until the Stooges, you were never..." She paused, looking for the right word. "Alone."

Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed, tightening around it slightly. Then she continued, voice growing a little bit quieter. "Me... I've never not been alone. I haven't left my castle since I was six. The servants were forbidden to talk to me. My parents were too busy running a country. I've never had anyone to befriend before, anyone to care about. Anyone to be abandoned by."

'Betrayed' might have been a more accurate word, but she didn't say it. Tears tightened her throat again, but she pushed them down. Rose never cried in front of others. Usually that would be because it was not proper, because it was unladylike. But with Larry there... her reasons were different. Because he had told her once that she was strong. That she was brave. She wasn't, of course, and knew it very well, but Rose  _wanted_ to be this person her saw her as, this better version of her. She wanted to live up to that image, even now.

"I wish I knew the right way to phrase it, the right way to explain to you what you mean to me, but I've never been in this situation before. I'll... try to make it simple. If you think I seek an apology—I don't. If you think you need to excuse your actions—you don't. The truth of it is this: your friendship is something I'm not prepared to lose, and it doesn't matter what you do," or how much it hurt her, "because I will always forgive you." Her eyes remained glued to her knees, even as she said all of that. "I'm not looking for any sort of retribution from you, Larry," she said softly. "But forgiveness is a conscious choice. Trust isn't."

* * *

Rose dropped her gaze and Larry felt as substantial as chalk; he hoped her words wouldn't break him. As she sat down on the bed, Larry felt much the same as she did—that the distance stretched between them and was vast and deep like a gulf. It was disconcerting, but, Larry could swim the distance if it meant closing the gap.

The prince listened in silence, thoughts jumbling up as Rose spoke, but losing most in the light of her explanation.

'Abandoned' stuck out. Larry could have shrunk to an eighth of himself and still not have felt as physically small as he did emotionally.

Not realizing it until his vision was practically swimming, Larry put a clamp down on the wriggling emotions, attempting to not make Rose feel anymore beholden to him than she said she did already. If he made her feel bad about saying what she did, he would feel twenty times worse. "I've lost your trust?"

Of course, he had. What part of 'abandon' didn't destroy trust?

Larry dropped into a crouch off the bed, getting in front of Rose but not touching her. "I will work to earn your trust back, Rose. I will not abandon you again," Larry said, his whole body settling on that statement. "Please," Larry said more softly, "Don't say anything... I'll let you sleep, though, alright?"

He stood, and wobbled. The wobble was probably just his feet having gone to sleep, but... he took another step and the floor seemed to tilt under him. When he reached out to catch himself, he caught empty air and landed on his chest. His head seemed to spin until a darkness swallowed him whole.

* * *

When Larry crouched in front of her, Rose finally looked at him. She wanted to say no to that first question, to reassure him, deny feeling that way… but it would be a lie.

So, when he asked her not to speak, she didn't.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the bed once again as he stood to leave, and though she didn't want to leave things this way, the princess remained seated. What would she even say? But then, as she saw him fall, all thoughts of silence were pushed to the background.

"Larry!" In an instant, she was next to him, shaking his back. "Larry, are you okay?" There was no response.

Then, the world suddenly shifted. Her head spun, the image of his still body swimming in and out of focus. Before she could figure out what was happening, Rose lost consciousness, falling to the floor beside him.

~O~

The first thing Rose registered when she came to was that she was still lying on the ground, and for a moment, it seemed like she had only closed her eyes a second ago. However, as more and more of her awareness returned, she started noticing some alarming changes.

Firstly, she couldn't move. Looking down at her body, Rose saw a thick rope encircling her, binding her limbs together. She manoeuvred herself into a sitting position, with no lack of effort, and managed to sit up, but found that the end of the rope still kept her from standing up, keeping her firmly attached to a tall refrigerator.

Next, it was daylight. The sunshine was streaming through the open windows, illuminating the spacious kitchen. A fire was crackling in the enormous fireplace, and there, poking the embers with a cheery tune on his lips, was Lars.

Rose tried to call out to him, but what came out was only a muffled jumble of sounds. It was then that she realised that she had been gagged.

The sound must have been enough to draw his attention, because he turned and noticed her.

"Ah. You're awake." He stood up from his spot in front of the fireplace and came to crouch down next to her. "That means your friend should be coming to as well." His eyes diverted to the ceiling, and Rose's widened in horror. Another garble of sounds left her throat as she tried to ask about Larry, but Lars only put his hand on top of her head, petting it gently. "Hush now; don't cause a fuss. He's perfectly fine. He'll wake up soon in his bed and think whatever he was doing in your room was all just a dream. Then he'll come down to the den, and I'll tell him you went ahead, then send him off on his merry way. There's no need for him to get caught up in this, is there?" He gave her a smile she suspected was supposed to pass for sympathetic. "You wait here like the good little duckling you are. We have a common friend who asked for a batch of swan pies. I always was a sucker for those big brown eyes, even when she was a kid." Rose's startled eyes shifted to the fire, widening with the panic his implication sparked inside her. "Oh no, don't worry about that," Lars said kindly. "I wouldn't roast you alive. That would ruin the taste." He nodded to the table in the middle of the room, and the princess could see a sharp butcher's cleaver shining on its surface. She didn't know if that made her feel better or worse.

Footsteps echoed above them.

"He seems to have woken up," Lars said, standing up. "This shouldn't take too long."

He picked up his cane, which had been left leaning against the table, and walked to the door, shutting it behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, Rose struggled frantically against the ropes, but it was clearly hopeless. She leaned back against the wall, trying to fight the desperation and panic clawing up inside her.

* * *

Waking slowly, Larry had a moment where he hovered just over the black mists of "sleep"; the blissful unawareness of that limbo was so comfortable but also fleeting.

He noticed the sun first, lifting into the sky, filling the room and making him just a little too warm. Larry looked where he could without moving a muscle, seeing his shoes still on his feet, and the lack of blankets or covers on him at all. No matter where he slept, those two things never greeted him in the morning.

The cottage. The old man. Rose. Their discussion the night before. The sudden turning of the room. Flashes of the evening came back to Larry until he lurched to his feet. Where? Where was he? Where was she? How did he end up in this room? On this bed? Drugs? The pies that Lars fed them? Larry wobbled, but steadied himself, taking stock in the light of day.

Why had he been drugged? Nothing was apparently wrong with him now. He had no cuts, scrapes, bruises. He was completely unharmed.

He wasn't the target, then. Rose was. Rose had been oddly intent on following her hat all the way into the woods, just to bump into an old man who had a place for them to stay overnight. Why couldn't he just trust his gut?

Larry called Lars filthy things in his head, in every language he knew.

The prince forced his feet to carry him to the door, and from the door, into the hallway, and then into the room where he last saw Rose. His stomach dropped when she wasn't there—when there was no sign of her being there at all—numb all the way to his numb toes. Where was she? Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"Rose?! Rose, where are you?!"

He backpedaled out of the room and flew down the stairs, meeting Lars in the den, almost running into him headlong.

"Where is she?" Larry asked, his anger instantaneous, carried over from the night before.

Lars seemed immune. The old man blinked plaintively and said in calm tones, "Your friend's long gone by now. She headed out before you, this morning. Should be back at that fancy school of yours by now. Why don't you run along, too? I can't spare breakfast for you, but if ya hurry you might make it back before they close the kitchens."

While Larry let Lars speak, he took stock of the situation. The man had obviously been awake for some time. Was he wearing the same clothes as before? Probably. Yes. Lars had a blush like heat across his cheeks, but not a runny nose, so it wasn't from a chill to the morning air. Larry didn't see dirt clots on his shoes, either. There were no signs that he had been outside. So where was the fire? The den was too cool to have any sort of heat in it.

"Rose?!" Larry yelled, pushing his way past Lars to run into the next room, "Rose?!"

Lars was faster than the prince expected him to be, catching up enough to swing the walking stick at the back of Larry's head. He fell to the floor heavily, a jolt racing up his wrist where he tried to catch himself.

"Ya just couldn't leave well-enough alone, could ya?" Lars asked, picking something heavier than the stick up off a surface in the room, "Ya had to play the hero. Had to save the girl. I'll make quick work of ya, kid. Someone'll like a hero pie."

The swing came down but didn't connect. Larry rolled away in time for the object to meet the wooden floor only. "Agh!" Lars cursed, "Fucking quick bugger."

Larry scurried to his feet, and into the next room, following the heat of a fire. There! On the floor tied to the old refrigerator!

"Rose!" he exclaimed, just in time for Lars to come surging after him. Swinging to face him, Larry ducked another swing of the cane, throwing his arm up to catch the backstroke Lars aimed for his skull.

"Hold still! I'll make it quick!"

Lars looked insane, white hair flipped every which way, murder in his bright eyes. Another swing, but this time, Larry stepped into it and caught hold of the stick. He hoped the wood wasn't too dry and poured magic into it, forcing a rather violent explosion of roots to ensnare Lars' arms. The old man hollered in alarm, attempting to free himself from the sudden grip of his own walking stick.

Larry took the window his distraction had caused to try and free Rose. The rope was too thick and too tight to wiggle off of her, so he looked for anything to cut it away with, finding the butcher's cleaver on the table. What would Lars have used it for? There was no time to dwell; the man was still yelling and struggling with the cage his stick made around him.

Larry cut the rope in a heavy swing where it tied Rose to the refrigerator, looking for any spot to cut next that wouldn't hurt Rose where she was tied.

_Merde! Merde! Merde!_ The rope was tight around Rose in every spot he wanted to cut through. He needed better control of the situation. Lars had seen what Larry was trying to do and stopped his screaming long enough to run at the pair of teens on the floor.

" _NO!_ " his wild voice boomed, " _YOU'RE NOT GOIN' TO ESCAPE THAT EASY!_ "

Larry lifted the cleaver in defense, recoiling when Lars ran into them with the intent to kick or stomp the pair of them, putting the point of the cleaver into the old man's foot. Lars  _really_ started to scream. He hopped and howled, losing his balance without the use of his arms, wheeling straight into the cupboards. Some sort of large kettle fell on top of him, silencing the old man suddenly, and his body sank into the fire blazing in the fireplace.

All that Larry could do for a solid moment was look at the flames as they licked up Lars' clothes. He was going to be sick. Maybe later. Rose was still tied up. He looked at her with unfocused eyes. Crawling the distance to the body, Larry pulled the cleaver from the man's foot and wiped the blood on the pants above the shoe.

He tried not to cut Rose as he cut through the rope, freeing her just as the fire seemed to creep out of the fireplace and down the legs of the body in it. "We should leave," Larry said, "He's dead. This place is going to burn, I think." He pulled the rope until the coils were loose enough for her to push away. "We need to get out of here."

* * *

Rose freed herself from the rope and removed the piece of cloth which prevented her from speaking. She stood up hastily, her eyes darting to the fireplace, and she moved without thinking, scrambling over to the two feet poking out of the flames.

She reached down, but the heat was too strong, causing her hand to flinch from the pain, returning to her side. "No, he could still be—"

But she knew it was pointless before even finishing that sentence. Having been treated like she was made of glass all her life, Rose had had to sit through many safety-related lectures, and knew that as soon as Lars fell into the fireplace, he would have inhaled the fire as well as the smoke, causing the lung tissue to burn away, and asphyxiation would have occurred within seconds. There was no saving him.

No, Rose wasn't stupid. She knew Lars was going to kill her, and Larry, and probably had lured them here for that purpose in the first place. It wasn't like she held any warm feelings for the man, and she knew he had played her, that he was planning on ending her life all along, and had probably drugged the food or the drinks she had been so foolish to accept. But... he was still a human being, and... and she had to try.

The fire was rapidly spreading out of control. Rose quickly wiped away the wetness that was starting to pool at the edges of her eyes.

"Let's go," she said, standing up once more and looking away. The smell made bile rise in her throat.

They had to leave, while they still had a chance.

* * *

" _Oui_ ," Larry forced out. He reached out for Rose's hand, not wanting to get separated, but also needing the reassurance. He didn't feel like he could turn away from the man burning in the fireplace, but eventually, he peeled his eyes away.

On numb legs, Larry wound through the cottage. He stopped at the front door, blankly staring at the locks for a moment, then urgency flared in his brain again.  _Escape the house fire,_  he thought,  _then have a moment of existential crisis._ The more important thing was to leave. Locks were time-consuming, and who was to say there wasn't a problem with them, anyway? Larry put the hand he had free to the door and forced magic through it, until with a great cracking noise, the door busted from its frame and fell flat onto the porch on the other side.

"After you, Rose," Larry offered. They had time to walk and not run out of the house.

Lars killed himself. It was self-defense. Larry had sense enough to know that. Lars would have killed Rose. He would have killed Larry. They were lucky to be alive. It was just... seeing someone die. For the first time. Larry wanted nothing more than to go outside and puke all he could of the food from the night before up. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

* * *

Rose let Larry lead her through the empty house, which was quickly starting to fill with black smoke. Once they were outside, putting a safe distance between them and the burning building, she stopped and turned, casting one last glance at the cottage as the fire consumed it. The ground was too hard and the early spring weather too chilly for the entire forest to go up in flames, which was good. Then she looked at Larry, and a million thoughts ran through her head.

He was still here. He could have so easily walked away, but he hadn't; could have gotten angry or bitter after what she said last night, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd fought a murderous maniac to save her. He'd risked everything for someone who had just admitted she couldn't trust him anymore.

Right then, Rose could have said a lot of things. How stupid she had been for choosing to believe a complete stranger over him, for example. Or how sorry she was to have gotten him into this nearly lethal mess. Or how guilty she felt, because for a second there, she truly did fear he might leave her again, and he hadn't even hesitated to come after her.

But none of that made it to the surface. Her hand squeezed his, and the only thing she managed was a choked, almost whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

Larry pulled Rose into a quick, tight hug. "Anytime, Rose."

He shifted his eyes back to the cottage. There was hardly any sign that it was burning on the outside, other than the smoke rolling out of the chimney. Larry felt uncomfortable standing there, and then he realized that his wrist was throbbing. He must have sprained it in the fall. Another injury for Curly to heal.

"I don't want to watch it burn. The police and fire department will be here before long, anyway. Let's go back to the school and get checked out at the infirmary. Maybe we can have the Fairy Godmother call them if we need to answer any questions—death investigations..."

He just really wanted to leave.

* * *

The hug startled her, but it only took a second for her to relax into it. Her eyes started swimming again, but she buried her face in his shoulder, refusing to let the tears fall.

"We can't tell the school about this, Larry," she said quietly, staring off in the same direction. "If my parents knew... I'd never see any of you again." Her father would pull her out of the academy before he'd even finished listening to the story if he knew she'd been in such danger.

"Let's just go," Rose added in agreement, wanting to be anywhere but here. "You said before that you could get us back to the school." She gestured to the woods. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

"What if the fire doesn't destroy the evidence we were there? They'll find us anyway, right? We might be in... less trouble..." he trailed off because he finally thought through what Rose had said. "Would your father really do that?"

He didn't want to be investigated as a murder suspect, but if they did, wouldn't his story match with Rose's and wouldn't it be obvious at the scene? Larry worried, but it wasn't worth Rose being sent home, permanently. His parents would pay for the best lawyers if it came to that. He hated thinking that way, but he knew he could count on them.

"I can use the roots to take us back. They'll show me the way."

He walked to the nearest tree and felt out the general direction that the forest would end in. At the other end of that would be the school. "We'll go this way."

* * *

Rose nodded in answer to his question. The only reason her dad agreed to send her here in the first place was because he was convinced that the Fairy Godmother's mere presence guaranteed her safety. Clearly, that was not the case, but if he knew that she would be back behind the castle walls.  _Especially_ if he knew Odile was close by. Rose hadn't lied to him about it… she had just failed to mention it. Her grandfather knew of all her escapades, so it wasn't like she was hiding it from the adults in her life. She was just… telling specific adults. It still counted.

"We didn't leave behind any evidence," she pointed out. Excluding her poor hat, which would surely burn.

When Larry gave her a direction, she simply nodded again. "Okay. How far away are we?" She hoped it was less than a day's walk. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed, maybe with a good book and a cup of tea, and forget this awful experience.

* * *

It was stupid for him to argue. The fire would probably claim the house and everything in it. Hair, fingerprints. The odd book.

_The odd book._

He suddenly had the vaguely self-destructive urge to run back into the house after the book. The door to the house was open, his irrational and Curly-like inner voice told him, and the fire probably hadn't spread to the living room. Maybe he could just get it if he ran in and out. But Rose would be out alone, and the fire could burn faster and hotter than he might think and... it might only take two seconds. Maybe Rose would understand? He'd never seen the book before. He couldn't have thought of it before they left the house because survival was all that was on his mind. Turning his head to look at Rose, he said, "We'd be there at about noon if we left soon. But... the book from last night... Rose, I think it might be important for us to have it. Do you mind if I go and get it? I could be back in a minute. I won't leave you alone—if you don't want me to go back...?"

Why the book was so tempting, Larry couldn't guess. He really wanted to take it, though.

* * *

"What?"

Rose had been in something of a dazed stupor since Lars had fallen into that fireplace, everything appearing muted and sad in light of the fact that she couldn't save him. But what Larry just said made something inside her flare up, causing the mist around her brain to retreat.  _Was he serious?!_

"Of course I mind, the house is  _on fire_!" she exclaimed incredulously. "You are  _not_ going back in there for a book, Larry! A minute is more than enough for you to inhale that smoke and lose consciousness!" And then die in the fire. He must've been crazy if he thought she'd let him risk his life like that. "And what if the support beams give out and the roof collapses on top of you? Absolutely not!"

* * *

"I..." Larry looked at the house, and something inside seemed to be lightening up, and he weighed Rose's words.

What  _was_ he thinking?

Of all the stupid...

"You're right," Larry agreed. He put a hand to the crown of his head, eyes narrowing at the house and then at the ground, "I don't... know what came over me." Why did he need a voice of reason? Was it because he was usually everyone else's? He shouldn't put Rose in that sort of position; he knew how it felt. But now he knew how it felt to be in need of the voice of reason—how it was to put three sails to the caution-less wind and blow through all the normal stops for consequences.

He could find another copy of the book. The money, time, and effort to look for it would be his summer project, if it was really that important.

"We should go..."

* * *

Rose almost sighed in relief when he agreed with her, a smile accompanying the feeling.

"Yes,  _please_ ," she said, reaching for his hand. "Let's just get back to the school." All she wanted was for them to be somewhere safe, and to get as far away from his awful house as possible. The book was inconsequential; what was actually important was right there with her. "You said last night that I should ask you about how you met Moe and Curly. Will you tell me the story?" she added, pulling him in the direction he'd indicated earlier. It was half to get his mind off the book, just in case he tried to pull a Curly and run back in anyway, and half to get her own off Lars' burning cottage. It seemed surreal somehow to be asking him to slip into such an ordinary topic after what they'd just been through... but she felt like it was what they needed. Just something else to think about.  _Anything_ else.

* * *

Larry let himself be pulled along, unable to start speaking until the house was swallowed up in the trees. "How I met Curly and Moe..." he drew, lost for a minute in a wild swirl of thought and memory. He wanted to talk and think about anything but the house that was slowly burning in their wake, but he had a hard time disconnecting the image of Lars falling into the fireplace.

"I never made friends... before Curly and Moe. I had books and that was enough for me... I worried that my parents thought I was defective, but I wasn't aware of what life could be like...  _with_."

They branched to stay on course, and Larry paused to check their progress and make sure they were headed in the right direction. "It was summer camp, the year before we started at Andover. We all ended up at the same summer camp. That I agreed to go at all is a small work of magic..."

Magic. He had to explain the mark the Enchantress put on him.

"How much do you know about my family? Anything at all...?"

* * *

Larry' mind still seemed a little preoccupied, but he was moving, which was good. As Rose drew him further and further into the forest, she could almost see the cogs in his head turn behind his eyes, searching for the story. What he said about the camp aligned with what little bits Moe had divulged, and Larry's thoughts about books were so similar to her own, that she was once again reminded of how alike the two of them really were, despite the difference in their upbringing. It brought a slight smile to her face.

Though the French prince did follow along willingly, Rose truly considered the distraction a success when he asked her the question about his family. "Mostly I know what you've told me," she replied. "And I know the story, of course. How your dad was cursed to be a beast until he found love, and how he ended up finding your mother. Then they sort of travelled around; you mentioned once that they actually got married in Agrabah, I think. Why was it a miracle that you went to camp? Did you not want to?"

* * *

"I packed two suitcases for camp, and one of them was full of books," Larry said, a small smile pulling at the memory, "So... no. I didn't want to go. But I did to humor my parents.

"When he was eleven, my father lived in a castle alone with a retinue of servants. He was spoiled... and not in the way that is laughable and easily corrected. He had been well on his way to becoming a cruel man. A woman—a very old and ugly crone—appeared at his castle door on a cold night, and asked for shelter in exchange for a very lovely rose. The servants stalled until my father came to check what was more important than him, and upon seeing the old woman and hearing her barter, rejected her. She warned him not to be deceived by appearances—that beauty was found within—but he only sneered and refused her again..."

Honestly, even though his father was ashamed of his actions and how he was before the curse, Larry always felt like his father liked to tell the story of the night that he was transformed. Some of it had rubbed off.

"The old woman was really a disguise. When my father looked at her again, she had transformed into a beautiful enchantress. My father said that he was so afraid of her that he felt to his knees and attempted to apologize. The Enchantress said she had seen that there was no love in his heart, and cursed him to be as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside as punishment. She gave him ten years to learn his lesson; ten years to find someone to love and who could love him in return."

Larry had to look at Rose every so often as he spoke, hoping to gauge her reactions to his parents' tale.

"After my parents broke the curse and were married in Agrabah, they traveled more and eventually decided to have an heir. I was born in my father's castle, and that same day, the Enchantress showed up again. She gave me my power that day, although my parents didn't know for months that she had done anything to me. As I grew, they saw how much I loved to escape into books and how little I valued the company of others, and they were... afraid. The Enchantress was always a threat to them where I was concerned. If I didn't meet her idea of a well-rounded child, they were afraid I would face the same curse as my father. On my tenth birthday, we were in Agrabah, hoping to throw her off our trail, but she was there, anyway. She asked me a few questions, but I asked her about a million more in the twenty minutes she talked to me. She told my parents there was nothing to fear—I just hadn't met the right friends yet—and that she had put a mark on my wrist that would disappear when I met my true friends.

"It disappeared when I met Curly and Moe."

He smiled, and it was a full, brimming-with-happiness smile. How excellent had it been to meet the pair of them at a summer camp? Well, hindsight being twenty-twenty, it was excellent, but Larry, at the time, had been highly suspect of the prince from Corona and the shy semi-prince from Oz.

* * *

In all honesty, Larry could be reading from an outdated phonebook, and he would still have Rose's undivided attention. He was the best storyteller she knew, and as he spoke, she could almost see the scene unfold before her: the ugly, shivering crone, the begging prince, down on his knees, and the curse taking effect, transforming his hands into clawed paws.

Rose completely understood his parents' fears - after all, this was what had happened to her. For a moment she imagined little ten-year-old Larry being turned into a monster, and for the first time ever, she felt a fierce gladness that he was not like her.

"You had a mark?" She held up his wrist curiously. "And it just went away when you saw them?" It was so odd to imagine the Stooges before they met... unnatural somehow. To even think of a time when they weren't friends, it was just impossible to Rose, because she had always thought of them as three parts of the same whole.

Then Larry smiled so brightly it was impossible not to smile in return as the young princess' heart swelled with affection for the first friends she'd ever made. "I'm so happy that you found each other," she said. "I can't imagine a world where you aren't together. I'm actually a bit... jealous, to be honest," she admitted. "I wish I had a bond this strong with someone."

* * *

As Rose examined Larry's wrist, the gentle touch warred with the feeling in the other, injured, wrist. He'd have to have the infirmary check and see if anything was broken.

" _Oui_ ," Larry said, still smiling, "It was like a rope knot. Small, but highly visible to me. When it disappeared, we had just been made a team by the camp counselors, and I hadn't met them until then. I almost didn't believe it when it happened. I thought: 'These two? Really?' But the magic was sound; if the Enchantress' magic had loopholes, my father and his staff would have found them long ago. I kept close to Moe and Curly, even though I was baffled as to why them.

"Even though I knew they were true friends, I was afraid to both let them in and let them go. Curly had so much energy, and Moe was just the opposite. Then there was me: thinking with my head instead of my heart. There was a bear, in a cage. Some sort of attraction-type gambit, not too far from the summer camp. Curly convinced me and Moe to go with him to free the bear. It would be wrong of us to leave it, Curly said, and I believed that the danger was worth the risk. We opened the cage... and it  _charged_.We ran, but a bear is just too big. I got us into trees, but the bear wouldn't leave us alone, and it was close to knocking Moe down. Curly yelled, ' _I wish the bear would leave like it was supposed to!_ ' and Moe's magic kicked in. The bear wandered off, but Moe fell from his tree, and he was hurt. You can imagine who sprung into action, can't you? Curly healed him, and we went back to the camp, dirty, and tired, but alive and... well, friends. We've been close ever since."

Larry paused in their walking and turned to Rose. "We all want to be your friends, Rose. But, even if it's not with us three, I believe that at some point, you'll meet that someone that makes you feel like anything is possible when you're with them. Curly and Moe made it clear to me that even if you think you can do it all on your own, having friends opens up all sorts of unexplored possibilities." He gestured with his head, saying, "We're only an hour away, I think."

* * *

Rose didn't even attempt to hide the exasperated shake of her head upon hearing the bear plan. Of course Curly would come up with something so insane and drag the other two along.

"A bear. You freed  _a bear_? If it was that close to your camp, didn't it occur to any of you that it might wander in that direction and hurt someone? Not everyone can manipulate trees to their convenience or just make wild animals leave them alone. Oh, honestly..." She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, though the smile wouldn't leave her face for some reason. "Why is it that when something happens, it's always you three?"

Then Larry stopped and turned to her, and Rose gave him a slight smile, nodding in response to his words. "Maybe," she replied vaguely. Oh, she wouldn't trade what she had with them for anything, but what  _they_ had between them was wildly different. This sort of thing didn't just happen every day or to anybody, but it was alright if she never found it. There were a lot of things the princess of Oloria knew she would never get to experience, but friendship—even it if wasn't on that level—that, she knew of. Thanks to them. And to her, that was enough.

Her eyes soared behind Larry. "Good," she said, though she only half-meant it. It was good that they'd be at the Academy soon, but she knew that as soon as they separated, her mind would be free to replay everything, to dwell on mistakes and missed opportunities, to remember the taste of the gag in her moth and the light reflecting off a blade meant to end her life. A shiver threatened to shake her body, but Rose kept herself still as she shifted her gaze to him once again. She couldn't avoid being by herself, no matter how she may try to put it off, and what was truly important was getting them to safety. "Let's hurry. Before we come upon something—or someone—else. I think I've had enough of nature walks for a while."

* * *

"In our defense, we were... twelve?" Not that they had changed all that much in four years. Curly was still having wildly dangerous ideas. Moe and Larry were still being talked into wildly dangerous ideas. "But I've been asking myself the same thing since then," Larry added with a grin.

He couldn't guage just what Rose was thinking when she said maybe, but the prince was happy she didn't just shoot down the possibility. It would mean a lot to him if she had someone she could rely on-better than him, at any rate.

Where her mind went, Larry's also slid. He would be alone with his thoughts, which had no draw to it. Lars falling into the fire was almost seared into the backs of his eyelids, so whenever he closed them, he saw the man on his way down. They needed a new topic for the next hour. Anything to keep them talking.

"How was the date with the Charming prince? The senior?"

Larry didn't know much about Isaiah, but he knew Moe had... something for the prince's twin sister Iolanthe.

* * *

"It was… okay," Rose said as they walked along, dry twigs and leaves crunching under her shoes. "I mean, I found him rather intimidating at first. A senior, the prince of Andover… and he wanted to spend the afternoon with  _me_ – a person he's never met before. I really don't understand this dating thing." Again she thought to herself that she really needed to find a book on the subject. Or two. Or ten. "Still, for a first ever date, I think it went well. He asked me where I wanted to go, so we got to visit the Planetarium. Have you ever been?" Her eyes shone at the memory, and, unable to contain herself, she continued without waiting for an answer. "I was simply  _breathtaking_! I could see the stars so clearly, and they were so different than the ones above Oloria, but still recognizable, and I had so much fun re-discovering my favourite constellations and finding them in this new sky! I told Isaiah a bit about them, but I don't think he was all that impressed… to be honest, I was rather afraid I might bore him to death," she admitted. "And… I think I might have? He was very polite, though, so if I did, he didn't show it. He was very… princely, a perfect gentleman; even tried to compliment me a few times, but you know how I feel about flowery speech patterns." Rose shot Larry a look, unable to hide her smirk. He had dialled it down quite a bit since the first time she told him that, and it had made it so much easier for her to relax around him.

* * *

"Yes," Larry answered, even if it wasn't a question, "I know how you feel about flowery speech patterns."

It sounded like a nice date – as if he had any real experience. His date with Tamsin had been really fun, but it was more of a mini-vacation-show-and-tell. Under no circumstances had there been any feeling aside from friendship between them. Larry had too strong a sense of self-preservation not to; Amar would have crushed him had Larry's romantic side made a move. And anyway, just being friends was enough. Not to mention, Larry had had enough of fumbling teenage bad-decisions.

"No, I've never been to the Planetarium," Larry answered, remembering that she had asked. "Maybe I'll go sometime..." If he was being honest with himself, the stars never interested him much. He'd rather read star-related folklore than try and decern "shapes" from a pattern of dots. His parents hadn't been star-gazers, and it carried over.

* * *

"Oh, we could go together!" Rose offered excitedly. "Isaiah had reserved the whole place for us, so maybe we'll be able to catch a show. I've always wanted to, but my parents wouldn't let me go. Too risky to have me in a dark place surrounded by a crowd, you know? Makes it easy for enemies of the crown. I still loved observing the stars at night and reading about them, though. Did you know that many constellations were actually named after legends, even the zodiacal ones? For example, you are a Taurus, right? The constellation Taurus, according to Greek myth, represents the bull-form taken on by Zeus when he became enamored by Europa, princess of Phoenicia. She was impressed by the beauty and gentleness of the bull, and the two played together on the beach. Eventually, Europa climbed onto the bull's back, and he swam out to sea with her. He took her to Crete and revealed his true self. There's a meteor shower in November that seems to originate from the constellation, too, it's called the Taurid meteor shower.

"My personal favourite is the legend of Andromeda, which gave names to both a very prominent constellation and the nearest to us galaxy. Andromeda was the princess of Ethiopia, daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia was a boastful woman, and foolishly bragged that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids. In order to avenge the insult to his nymphs, Poseidon sent a sea monster to ravage the Ethiopian coast. The desperate king consulted the Oracle of Apollo, who announced that no respite would be found until the king sacrificed his daughter, Andromeda, to the monster. The brave Andromeda volunteered herself as an offering to save her kingdom and was chained to a rock on the coast, ready to die. Luckily, the hero Perseus was passing by at that time and slayed the monster. He set Andromeda free and married her, in spite of her having been previously promised to her uncle Phineus."

Rose knew  _a lot_ about the stars. More than anyone probably cared to hear, but right now talking about this was easy, and it helped her ignore the tight knot in her chest and push back on the thoughts still hanging over her like a dark cloud. Ever aware of them, she fastened her pace, as if it were possible to escape it, and kept prattling on.

"There is also a Swan constellation in the sky, Cygnus, and one of the legends about it states that the swan was once the pet of Queen Cassiopeia. And did you know there is a constellation called Corona?"

* * *

Larry listened and kept them on their path. He liked how Rose seemed happier and more excited about her star stories than he thought he had seen her recently. Considering their most recent experiences, it was strange that either of them could muster any enthusiasm. "Am I a Taurus? I hadn't ever really paid attention," Larry answered, although it wasn't necesary. He wondered how it was that Rose knew when his birthday was. When had he told her?

"No...? Is there a story to that?"

* * *

"Yes, but it's quite a long one. It doesn't really have anything to do with Curly's kingdom, though."

In order for him to understand where the name of the constellation came from, Rose had to tell Larry the entire story of Theseus and the Minotaur. Most people knew the part where King Minus sacrificed people by throwing them in a vast labyrinth, but what many legends omitted was the king's daughter, who gave Theseus a ball of yarn so he could find his way out. This was actually what had inspired Rose to take yarn on their little expedition in the catacombs. The story continued for quite a bit after Theseus defeated the Minotaur, as he promised to marry Ariadne, King Minus' daughter, but at the end abandoned her on a deserted island, where she was found by non other than Dionysus, the god of wine. He wiped her tears and took her into his arms, then proclaimed he himslef would marry her. He took the crown from her head and threw it into the heavens, where it became Corona Boreallis.

It was actually very easy to find in the sky. When she looked for a constellation, Rose usually started at Cygnus, the Swan, and found whatever she was looking for by proximity. Yes, she disliked anything swan-related, but Cygnus was a very bright and extremely easy to identify, and Corona was just north of it, right on the other side of Hercules.

Happy to waste time talking about myths and stars, Rose almost didn't feel the gloomy weight of her thoughts. By the time she was done telling the legend, she cloud see the towers of Andover looming over the trees. Dread settled in her stomach. She really, really didn't want to be alone right now, but Larry probably needed rest.

"Are you... going to be okay?" she asked when they made it to the main entrance.

* * *

The Minotaur from the story of Theseus had been mentioned few times in their family life, and Larry when he was younger thought little of it, but as he aged had come to think that his father, who had lived as a man trapped in the body of a beast with the threat of becoming that permanently looming overhead, simply felt it hit too close to home. Gaston would have been Theseus, Belle would have been Ariadne, and he would have been the Minotaur, killed, beheaded, and mounted on someone else's wall. Larry's mother had been a coup de grace to her husband, who's time had been nearly run out. But maybe that had just been Larry's take on things.

He let her talk without interruption as he navigated them back, and as the school came into sight, her question caught him off-guard. His first reaction was to say that he would of course be alright. But then he considered a few things, and he was very afraid of being alone. Diplomatically, Larry said what came to mind; "I'll have to be." He smiled at his companion, though it didn't make it to his eyes.

* * *

There was something off about his smile. Rose couldn't put her finger on what it was, but it seemed… sad, somehow. She had the urge to reassure him, to do, to say something to make him feel better. Only one problem – Rose had no idea how to be reassuring. She didn't know how to handle this, how to make things okay again.

As it often happened when she was in a bind, her mind turned to the many books she's read, and a quote came to mind, one said by one of her favourite authors – Earnest Hemmingway.

_'If nothing comes to mind, all you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'_

"You're not alone, Larry," Rose said softly. She reached for his hand, hesitantly, and gave it a light squeeze. "Do try to remember that."

Moe or Curly would be at the dorm. There was no way they had somehow missed Larry's absence, and Rose had no doubt that they were worried and would shower him with questions. How much he told them was up to him; she herself did not feel up to talking about this at all, but maybe talking with his best friends would lessen the burden for him. Or so she hoped. If nothing else, the princess could always count on them being there for each other, and she smiled slightly, knowing that if the three of them were together, everything would turn out okay.

"I'll see you in class on Monday. Get some rest," Rose added, letting go and climbing the steps to the entrance hall. The trek to the girls' dorm would be a long one… and the day that awaited her – even longer.

* * *

The melancholy that set in as Rose left off was not a creeping and low-lying animal, but something that he could see in the periphery of his mind, looming large, waiting impatiently to be alone. Larry watched Rose disappear into the castle and felt almost immediately like finding someplace to sit down and have a wildly emotional panic attack, but also the sharp pain in his wrist that he had been ignoring. It all stole his breath away, and he put the hand on his unhurt wrist to his chest with a wince. He had to get to the infirmary, but he also had to calm down enough to lie smoothly about tripping on stairs or some nonsense to the nurse. Breathing would be a good start. He concentrated on that and on the sound of the wind in the trees and the feeling of sunlight touching his skin. He would be okay, Rose would be okay. Things were going to be okay. They'd survived.

He just had to deal with it. Eventually, Larry went up to the infirmary and had his wrist healed–"Just a sprain; you'll be better in no time."–and then into his shared dorm to fall into bed and know nothing else.


	25. Chapter 25

It had taken a little bit longer than Moe would have liked, but he finally got all components in and put together for Rose's laptop. That was the reason for this visit. Rose had been sheltered a lot growing up and hadn't even known how to work an email. Working her own computer was a bit more involved, and he was there to instruct her. Call it a first lesson.

With the confidence of knowing what he was doing, Moe was not his usual jittery, anxious self when he raised his fist and rapped his knuckles on the door of her dorm room. Rose was a girl, but this was tech-geek stuff, and with that, he was king. Plus, Rose wasn't just a girl anymore. She was a friend. A girl-slash-friend.

* * *

Rose was on her way to the door when she heard the knock. A pile of books towered in her arms all the way up to her neck, and she had to lean back slightly, securing the volumes with her chin, so she could free one hand and twist the knob.

"Oh, hello," she said when the door revealed Moe on the other end, greeting him with a small smile. One look at the things he was carrying was enough to clue her in – he'd come, as promised, to help her set up the laptop. "You're sort of catching me at a bad time," Rose said apologetically, leaning a bit to the right as the book tower swayed dangerously. "I really need to return these before the day is out, and the Library closes in half an hour." Her eyes darted back inside, then to him. Would he be comfortable waiting alone in her room? Or would that be asking too much? "Erm… or you could… come with me? If you want? You can leave the stuff here, it won't take long." A bit of hope snuck into her voice – in her desire to solve the riddle that was her dream, she had checked out way too many books, mostly scientific journals and psychological theories, and those tended to be rather thick.

* * *

When Rose opened the door with the books piled high in her arms, Moe was momentarily surprised and was slow to register her greeting. "Uh hrm. Yeah," he mumbled, partially reaching for her and the books in an automatic chivalrous reflex to assist with her load. But he too had his own load, making his actions useless and unhelpful, so Moe stopped halfway and stepped aside. "Sure. Uh. I'll just." He motioned toward her dorm with his computer-filled hand to indicate he would set the stuff down. All she needed to do was move out of the way. Moe still wasn't easy with the touching if it wasn't necessary thing.

* * *

With a grateful smile, the princess took a few steps to the side, dragging the door with her shoulder. "Thank you. You can leave it on the desk."

Rose's desk was usually organized and tidy, which meant that it was mostly bare. Her erasers, sharpeners, paper clamps and other knick-knacks were set in sections for easy finding in the top drawer, and all the notebooks and textbooks not is use were arranged in the drawers or in her school bag. Said bag was, at present, situated in the blue armchair, already prepared for tomorrow's classes, only missing the stack of finished homework that lay in a neat pile on the right side of the desk, next to a small white vase containing a few snowdrops. All of her pens, markers and pencils were in a case, also currently on the right-hand side, and she made a mental note to put it back in her bag as soon as she got back so she wouldn't end up like that girl in Elvish who constantly lost her pens and kept bugging Curly for his. The only other things on the desk top were a stack of pink post-it notes, a tall desk lamp and an unfortunately swan-shaped tape dispenser. Rose hated it, but it was a gift from her father, and, being the practical person she was, the princess felt like she ought to make use of it. She just tried not to look at it, even when she had to.

* * *

It was a little weird to be stepping into Rose's room and the strangeness was not only because Rose was a girl. Actually, her room was surprisingly not as girly and frilly as he had imagined. Not that Moe imagined what Rose's room would look like or anything perv-worthy like that, because Moe wasn't a perve. At least not more perverted than the typical magical teen, or non-magical teen for that matter. ** _Err..._**

Moe cleared his throat and stopped looking around at Rose's stuff as he set the lap top on her desk. But he still felt awkward about it, and it showed when his big clog for a foot tripped over an invisible something on the floor. It wasn't a huge trip, Moses was able to catch himself and keep on out the door, but he was embarrassed enough by his thoughts alone that the trip managed to color his face red.

Once out the dorm, Moses cleared his throat again and reached for the books in her arm. "Here. Let me." Moses didn't take all the books from her, didn't want to offend her feminism, but took off most of them because he was bigger and she was smaller, and she couldn't see around them, and his mom taught him better than to let a girl struggle if he could help her. "Lot of books," he commented and then after a beat, awkwardly asked, "So you like blue?" Not just blue but baby blue, by the looks of the room.

* * *

Trying to keep the books from tumbling to the ground, Rose was mostly preoccupied with keeping them balanced rather than following Moe's movements, but her eyes did snap in his direction when she heard him fumble about. Seeing the blush on his face, she kept her concerned comment of ' _Are you okay?_ ' in and pretended not to notice, clearly seeing that he was unhurt and not wanting to embarrass him further.

When he offered to lighten her load, she readily helped him take some of the books. "Thanks, I could hardly walk with a stack this tall," she said, giving him another small, grateful smile. There was just something about being offered help like this by someone who wasn't a servant, wasn't obliged to help her. It wasn't something that happened to her a lot, and she couldn't help but feel a warm wave of gratitude towards him. Then she reached into the pocket of her knee-length green circle skirt and pulled out her key, locking her dorm behind them.

"I like light colours," Rose said as they started down the corridor. "If I had to pick a favourite though, it would probably be pink." Then she looked down at the smaller pile in her arms, thinking about his observation. She really might have gone a bit overboard. "Yeah, I… I wanted to be thorough. They're, erm… dream theories. Before Larry suggested it might be magical in nature, I thought it was psychological. The nightmare, I mean. The one that kept… repeating." She looked away. Rose didn't know how much Larry had told the others about it, or if Curly had shared the little bits he had practically pulled out of her by force, but they had probably told Moe the basics. Just remembering it made her want to shiver, though she held herself from doing so and looked to him instead, trying to seem more cheerful. "I'm sorry about making you take this detour; we won't be long. I just have to hand them over to the librarian, and we can head back. What sort of modifications did you make to the laptop? You mentioned before you were going to tinker with it."

* * *

Moe's fading blush from his stumble reinforced with her thanks. All the way up to his ears. He'd taken the books from her because she had too much in her arms. He'd helped her because it was the right thing to do. It didn't seem like an action that should have her thanks, or be acknowledged at all. He did it because he just did, and Moses didn't know how to take her appreciation so he just shifted the books—which were really not a burden to him like they had been for her—cleared his throat and nodded at her with a half-smile, half-grimace thing on his face.

_Pink._ Yup. That was exactly what he imagined to be her favorite color. Moses wasn't so stupid in the girl-knowledge department to define the gender by the color, but when it came to Rose, there always seemed to be an aura or halo of a soft, baby-pink. Like the color was just as soft and as sweet as Rose was. But it was also a color that intimidated him enough that he wouldn't have the balls to wear without some bizarre reason. Yup. Pink and Rose was pretty, but Moe and pink, not so much.

As she explained, awkwardly, about the reason for the books, Moses glanced down at the top book. The title was wonky, but in a quick glance he could see it was some hokey spiritual mumbo-jumbo book that wasn't on his queue. But that wasn't to say there weren't other Freudian dream books on there. Books that he'd downloaded after the whole catacombs catastrophe. Books that were also accompanied by several other new DL's on topics like Curses, Dark magic, and every little thing he could get about anything dealing with the subterranean section of the Academy. Something was down there. He knew it. Whatever it was, Moses was determined to find out. Still, the books were evidence of just how disturbed Rose was about these dreams she'd been having.

Her worry bothered him enough that when she asked about the modifications he'd made to her laptop, Moses politely brushed it aside with a, "It's easier to understand if I can show you." He wasn't trying to be rude or condescend her intelligence. On the contrary. But considering how much of a computer geek the wish-granter was, it was saying something that he didn't go all into it. To him, Rose's worry was more important than his geek-freak computer kingdom. "A-are you still dreaming? I mean after...everything they haven't... g-g-gone away?" Fucking stutter. Moses was actually getting angry with whatever magic was screwing with Rose, but only the frown between his brows indicated the appropriate distress. The fumbling of his words just made him sound like a pathetic douchebag, in his opinion. This time when he flushed scarlet, it was for his almost instant irritation.

Whoever that woman that was messing with Rose was, she was in for it. There was no way he, Larry, and Curly were just going to let her get away with the trouble she was causing. Fuck no. Sometimes-frightening-girl-ness aside, Rose was his friend. She was all of their friend. And they protected their friends.

* * *

He probably had a point that it was easier to explain the computer stuff when they got back. She most likely wouldn't understand if he tried to just tell her about, considering how illiterate she was on the subject and that she barely understood a big chunk of modern slang as it was. Why did computers have to be so complicated and alien? Why couldn't they be easy, like internal combustion engines?

"Ah, no, they're gone now," Rose reassured him, trying not to think about the Catacombs. "You have no idea how much of a relief it is to be able to sleep again. I almost forgot how it felt." She smiled a little at that and looked down at her load. A lot of these were actually very interesting. "I think I had them for a few weeks or so before I decided to start checking books out. I even took a few home to re-read over the holidays." Rose went over the list of books mentally, trying to make sure she hadn't forgotten a volume somewhere in her room, or worse, Oloria, and her eyes lit up when she remembered a specific one she had checked out for the second time —  _Jungian Dream Interpretation: A Handbook of Theory and Practice_ — which was currently in the middle of her stack. "Actually, I was reading this one when I first met Larry!" The princess tried to shuffle the books around so Moe could see the title, and as a result didn't pay attention to where she was going. Her foot caught on something, making her stagger, and the column of volumes, though significantly lessened, still leaned dangerously to the side. In an attempt to keep her balance without dropping anything, Rose tried to twist her body so her shoulder could find support in the wall, but to her surprise, the tapestry covering it gave way.

Rose gasped in surprise as she felt herself sinking into the hole in the wall, the books tumbling out of her hands when her fingers tried to grip the thick fabric. Not that it would help any – the tapestry itself loosened from whatever kept it up there and started falling from the wall.

* * *

A tension between his shoulders, that had been pulled tight probably since the catacombs but worsed only moments ago with the reminder of her dreams, relaxed when Rose promised the dreams were gone. It was a relief. It meant she was safe from whatever was underneath the school. For now.

Before Moe could dwell on that whispered dark thought, Rose was tumbling. He had seen her trip and made a jerky, useless move to help her, but kind of gave up halfway when he saw her reach for the wall. He'd expected the wall to catch her so there was no point in his dropping all his books to grab her if she wasn't going to fall. But then she was falling. Another, harder jerk, made of surprise, snapped him in her direction, forgetting the books. In his reach for her, they fell to the floor at his feet, some under, but he was slow to get to her. In that second he'd relaxed and expected the fucking wall to catch her, he had lost time and he couldn't stop her from falling in.

For a second, Rose was gone, and he thought he was going to fail her again. He hadn't been there when she'd fallen through the floor of the catacombs but that didn't stop images his own imagination conjured up and now, in a short span of a reach they flashed through his mind; he was going to lose her again. He was going to abandon her. Again! But then the wall hanging opened up and Moe could see her, gripping the cloth. With an extra little push, Moses got his arm around her waist and pulled. Except, he was an idiot. Moe managed to pull her against him but he, they, were still falling. He didn't have his feet under him. And then there was a rip and a scream/yelp—embarrassingly belonging to him—right before something solid stopped his progress with a painful smack to his face.

* * *

The heavy, suffocating textile of the dusty tapestry swallowed the young princess, submerging her in darkness. It was disorienting and hard to breathe, but she clung to the fabric, the only thing keeping her from falling. In an attempt to find air again, she twisted her body, trying to untangle herself from the heavy cloth, and managed to flip its folds to the side. For a split second she could see Moe reaching for her, and then felt his arm wrap around her waist. The momentum of his dive proved too much, however, and instead of him pulling her back, they both got swallowed up in the tapestry.

After a few very confused moments of squirming and struggling, they hit something hard. There was a flash of light from somewhere, then Rose felt Moe try to pull her closer to take the majority of the impact. She still felt every single bounce as they tumbled downwards, but of course, he ended up taking the bulk of it. And then, just like that, everything finally came to a stop.

Rose let out a soft groan and tried to get her bearings.

First thing she did was flip the stupid tapestry off and take a deep breath. It was still dark, but at least there was air. "Are you okay?" she asked, pulling herself up. She felt a little shaken, but other than that was mostly fine. "Moe?" she tried again when he didn't respond, her heart leaping up to her throat. Scrambling off him, her fingers clumsy with panic, the princess reached into the pocket of her skirt for her phone.

The white beam of the phone's flashlight shone on his face, and Rose saw, with a sharp pang of fear, that he was unconscious.

"No, no, no, no, no," she whispered, checking behind his head for blood.  _Please don't be hurt again!_  Her hand came up dry.

Shoulders sagging with relief, Rose finally directed her attention to their surroundings and shone the light around, trying to discern where they were. The room was spacious, rectangular, with shelves containing thick folders filling up the walls. There were no windows and no exits of any kind, barring a single doorway on the northern wall, which they must have come though, judging by the angle of their fall. Upon closer inspection though, such notions seemed impossible – the entryway was merely a frame, filled in by solid-looking brick. They couldn't have come through there… but then… where else had they fallen through? Her eyes immediately turned to the ceiling, though she knew the fall hadn't been from quite that high. What she found there was only an oddly shaped chandelier, spreading its many, iron tendrils above them like a giant, monstrous squid, its light bulbs cold and lifeless.

The beam travelled over the shelves once again, dropping to the worktables beneath them, and Rose noticed many and varying gadgets, gizmos, vials and numerous other contraptions she couldn't name upon them, along with scattered papers, quills, half-empty inkpots and what looked like faded blueprints. Not too far from where she was sitting next to the unconscious Moe, there was a bulky, old-looking computer, with the only chair in the room situated directly in front of it.

Rose tried push down on her quickly rising panic and think. First, they had to locate a source of light. Second, they had to find a way out. That chandelier must have a switch somewhere, and if they got in, that meant that they must logically be able to use the same route to leave. Okay. That was a plan. But before they could do any of that, they had to both be awake.

Rose looked back down to her friend. Her throat was too tight with panic for her to be yelling, and she couldn't bring herself to slap him, even lightly. "Moe, come on," she said, gently placing a hand on his cheek. "Can you hear me? Please, wake up. Wake up."

* * *

Moe groaned, his arm tightening reflexively around his girl-shaped pillow, while his mother told him to wake up. What? Mom? Oh man, if his mom was visiting, Moses was praying she brought some of her cookies. He missed her cookies so much. Last care package he received, Curly ate all his damned cookies. Moe nearly chewed his head off. Him mom's cookies were the best. Not even the Academy Chef could replicate them.

Cookies. Yes. His arm tightened again and in his dazed/dreaming state, Moe became aware of the girl-pillow, that wasn't a pillow but was definitely girl—all nice and soft and small in a different way than any pillow—and...Wait—girl? Girl! Moe's eyes snapped open, he sat up, smashed his head into the girl and, even in pain, backed the hell up from said girl, hand in the air, all in a matter of seconds before he even registered that he couldn't see much of anything, right away. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't do-do-do-do an-an-a-a-a-anyth-th-thing" Big gulp. Back against the wall or desk or whatever solid mass was behind him, at his back, Moses North had his hands in the air like a victim of a stick up, his vision fuzzy and unfocused for a moment and yet wholly afraid the girl was going to kill him for doing something. Even though he couldn't remember what it was he had done—bad nightmares; embarrassing, stupid, frightening, mortifying nightmares of the female gender plagued the poor nerd—at least until the light from a temporarily unknown source illuminated nightmare-girl and showed Rose instead. "Oh. Rose."

Moe visibly sagged with relief though his hands remained up—force of habit around females and nightmares.

Then the pain and soreness hit him in his head and his ribs and deep in his gut. The one low in his gut was really the one that ached the most. He groaned again, one hand holding his head to keep his brain from punching through his skull. "What happe—Where are w—" Then it all came back and he suddenly realized why he hurt in certain places. "I need a minute." He moaned and pulled his knees up until he could set his spinning head on them.

* * *

A yelp escaped Rose when Moe suddenly shot up and collided with her, though she was bending over him, so, in hindsight, she should have seen it coming. For a moment, everything became confusing and disorienting again as dull pain short through her head, and by the time she could think again, Moe had scrambled backwards. "No, it's okay," she tried to reassure him, rubbing the sore spot.

At his question, Rose shone the light around again, rising to her feet. "I don't know," she replied. The princess turned her phone up to the ceiling again, looking for a clue as to how to turn the thing on. There were no exposed wires or cables connecting it to anything, and for all she knew it could be running on magic. "It kind of looks like… a laboratory." Turning her attention to the walls, Rose approached the sealed doorway. She raised a hand and placed it on the bricks. They felt… strangely warm. She pushed, lightly at first, then harder, but it would not give. The princess turned around, her eyes assessing the distance between the discarded tapestry and the doorway. It definitely seemed like they came through it, but why was it sealed now? How?

Then she heard Moe groan again and saw him curl up into a ball. Her attention effectively stolen, Rose was by him in two quick strides, kneeling at his side. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked. Moe wasn't a little boy, Rose knew that, and he didn't need coddling. But… a part of her wanted to, anyway. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he reminded her of a giant teddy bear.

Trying not to seem as overbearing and fussy as she felt, Rose shone the light up, illuminating the chandelier once again. "What do you think? Magic or technology?" Either way, this place had to have some sort of power source. Should they even bother looking for a light, or would it be better if they just started trying to find it?

* * *

In his pained state, Moe wasn't up to being curious enough to check things out as Rose was doing. As Rose returned to him but drew his attention to the light fixture above them-a massive chandelier he hadn't expected to find in anything labratory-ish-the pounding in his head rated down to a dulling ache. Well, at least she hadn't nailed him in the jewels again. He'd heard once that getting kicked in the balls was the same for a girl getting punched in the boob. Moses doubted it because boobs, well, they were higher and chesty and, though they did come in pairs, they still weren't balls-like. Melons. Balloons. Maybe, but...Oh God! Moe caught himself looking at Rose's girl-chest and wanted to burn his eyes out for it. Not because her breasts were ugly or unattractive or anything. No way! Not at all! But for looking. For being so stupid as to look. He'd seen what girls did to guys when they were caught staring at breasts. Calling them out. Punching them. Pantsings. Verbal and physical abuse, flirtations, and embarrassments. And those were the regular girls. The others were worse.

Moe shivered and forced his eyes to the ceiling. No boobs up there. Nope. None at all. Just tiles and wires and weird... Slowly, Moses North pulled himself to his feet, eyes and focus now 100% on the light fixture above them. "Oh man..." he murmured in awe.  _That's magi-tech! It has to be,_  he thought.  _But what's magi-tech doing in some forgotten lab in the wall?_  His eyes left the chandelier and tried to scan the rest of the room with the light Rose's phone provided but could hardly see, so instead, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a light in his watch flicked on, ten times brighter than the cellphone's flash light and handier as Moses, without even looking, pressed a button and the light left his watch to hover just above and behind his head in a small ball. It almost looked like he had his own little fairy or pixie to light his way.

As Moses surveyed the room, he took in the different bits of things here and there; test tubes and parts, papers and... Is that a...? Moe crossed to the table on the other side and seized an oddly shaped contraption that looked like a clawed metal hand. "No way!" Another awed whisper. In his look around, Moe accidentally forgot that he wasn't alone and that Rose and him were actually in some hidden room in which they had fallen into through a secret hole in the wall hidden by a rank and itchy tapestry. Oops. But he couldn't help it! He was totally geeking out. They had stumbled into some mad, badass scientist/magic-worker secret lair! Totally Batman! And he was Bruce Wayne!—No no. Damian Wayne... or no! Nightwing. _I'm totally Dick Grayson. Yeah. Dick Grayson. I'm so cool!_

* * *

Seeing as the light from Moe's watch made her own measly flashlight obsolete, Rose turned it off and made to slip the phone back in the pocket of her skirt. An idea popped into her head as she did so, and her eyes quickly checked the screen, but alas, there was no signal. Of course.

As her friend wandered off to inspect the various gadgets strewn about, the princess opted to look at what she was better at – the books. Pulling a heavy, navy blue folder with the number 294 on the spine off the closest shelf, she coughed at the small dust cloud that enveloped her as she flipped it open. Inside were complicated sketches of contraptions she could barely understand, and the margins were cluttered with bits of small, messy handwriting. Rose turned her body so the watch light—no doubt something Moe had invented himself—was shining on the pages. She leaned back against the closest worktable, flipping through it. More schematics. Tiny, almost unintelligible notes. She squinted, trying to make out the words, but it was an arduous task. There was something in there about cost-efficiency and… a philosopher's stone?

The princess looked up from the pages thoughtfully. Everyone knew philosopher's stones were merely pipe-dreams. No one could circumvent the laws of magic and physics and evade the cost, and those who had tried met an unfortunate end. In order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost, everyone knew that to be an absolute truth nowadays. Even Moe, who was a great inventor himself, would probably know better than to try and create such a thing — the risks, the multitude of ways such a process could backfire, were too dangerous to ignore.

Right?

Rose looked at his back as he examined the piece of machinery excitedly. How far would he go for something that would let him circumvent the cost of wishes? Had he even thought of such things? His inventions were usually aimed at hobbies or helping his friends, not furthering his own powers. Harmless things. Like that watch. Its light was too bright too look directly into, though Rose was curious about how it worked and would have probably asked, had they not been trapped in some sort of crazy lab. Trapped. Rose swallowed thickly, feeling her pulse speed up.

The folder slipped from her grasp and hit the floor with a loud thump, but she barely even noticed. Her eyes darted left, then right, panic quickly rising in her throat. This place had no windows. No door. No air.

Her breathing picked up. Her heart was pounding. "There's no air," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table. "We're going to run out of air!" She was starting to hyperventilate, wasting what precious oxygen they did have, but the realisation only made the panic worse. Her chest was rising and falling in jerky, sudden motions, but as hard as she tried, Rose couldn't stop it.

* * *

Moe was in geek heaven! A fucking Withblade! He was as giddy as a schoolgirl—no offense to schoolgirls, however misogynistic the phrase sounded, because Moses really was feeling like giggling the way girls did when they were being all... giggly—because this was awesome! Okay so it wasn't a whole and completed, authentic Witchblade (maybe/possibly) but whoever Professor Batman/Bruce Wayne-badass-of-the-Andover-Academy was had been trying to figure how to make one, or how one worked. Both goals totally awesome in Moe's opinion. And the almost-Witchblade wasn't even the coolest thing one the table. And it was only one table out of a room full of them!

Geek.

Heaven!

Moe was in absolute Geek Heaven!

As Moe's eyes swept over the treasures on the table, he gasped, gently, reverently setting down the Witchblade so he could reach for something even more. Awesomer! Not a real word in normal circumstances but he was making a damned fine exception of it now because there were no other worlds to express, to the correct calibre of awesome that was before him. "Holy shit," he whispered reverently as he gently cradled the item in his hand. When the started worrying and panicked scuffling behind him interrupted his geek-worship, Moses felt a pang of annoyance and glanced over his shoulder at the offender. Only, when he realized it was Rose, and registered her distressed state, Moses forgot the precious thing is his hand, discarding with without concern, onto the table amid a rush to get to her side.

"Rose! Rose." Moe's large hands clasped onto the girl's shoulders and looked into her face, into her panicked eyes. Air? No Air? Even as he wondered at her words, the wish-granter inhaled a testing breath. The air is fine. No lightheadedness or shortness of breath. He wasn't cold or sleepy, his movements moving at normal speed and his limbs felt of their usual weight. All of this was catalogued, assessed and found acceptable. So why was she panicking?

Usually when it came to girls and their weird, freaky, unstable emotions and reactions to things, Moses stayed clear, but he wasn't handling just any girl. Rose was a girl, yes, but she was also his friend, and after what happened in the catacombs, he felt she was his responsibility too. Though he still didn't understand what she was freaking out about with the air and running out—after seeing the scope of the lab and seeing some of the things Prof BW(Bruce Wayne) created and was involved in, Moses had absolute faith and trust that a guy like that would not forget to create some sort of stable atmosphere within the secret room—he had her turned around with her back to his chest. "Breathe Rose. Breathe. The air won't run out," he promised, murmuring calmly into her ear.

Moe slowly slid them down to sit on the floor, keeping Rose against him—he didn't think to look for the nearest chair with his main concern being Rose and getting her to breathe. He held her arms around her chest, loosely, with his but kept his chest firm to her back and began taking deep steady breaths. "Can you feel me breathe?" As he spoke, Moses slowly took exaggerating breaths, inhaling and exhaling in a rhythm. "Feel your lungs expand with air Rose. Air that won't run out. It won't run out, Rose." He breathed out, his chest deflating with overemphasis. "I promise. Breathe."

* * *

In. Then out. Following Moe's instructions, Rose tried to imitate his motions, breathing with him as he did so. What he said didn't matter as much as the calm, soothing tone of his voice, and little by little, the anxiety eased its hold on her.

When her brain was finally able to run smoothly again, she registered that they were now sitting on the ground. Her thoughts immediately ran to the last time she'd had one of these panic attacks, and, even though she was in Moe's arms, suddenly felt really, really cold. There was a sharp pang of longing from a place deep within her, a basic need for warmth, and a shiver escaped her as she relaxed some more and slightly leaned back into Moe. "I'm starting to hate being underground," Rose muttered breathlessly. It wasn't just because she nearly died down in the Catacombs—though that was definitely a factor—but just the general closed off, claustrophobic feel she got at being cut off from the sun like this. She wanted open, grassy fields, fresh breeze in her hair, a blue sky above her and warm sunshine on her skin. Not cold, stale air and darkness.

Scanning the room once again, calmer and calmer with each passing moment, the princess came to the conclusion that it was quite spacious, so they had at least a few hours before the air became a real issue. With one last, sharp exhale, Rose patted Moe's arm gently. "Sorry about that. I'm okay now, I promise." Then it vaguely occurred to her that he was now the second person who was not a family member that she had allowed to hug her, and what was more, she didn't really mind it right now.

* * *

Moses North had intimate knowledge when it came to panic attacks. When speech was a trail he often failed during moments requiring communication with other people outside of the digital, analogue, and electronic worlds, when there was something he just had to say but his mouth refused to put the words together, panic attacks became very familiar. He didn't know how many times someone—his mother, father, Curly, or Larry—had to help him out of one. And they'd all had their own ways; paper bags, head between the knees. But the way his mother handled him during an episode was probably his favorite, as weird as it was for him to have a favorite way out of an attack. Not only did his mother's way handle his attack and guide him out of it gently, but holding him and breathing with him was a comfort, something that assured him he wasn't alone. Much better, that, than being bent over in a weird position or holding a cold, crinkly bag to his face. So was it any wonder that Moe fell to his mom's way when Rose was in trouble?

His arms tightened just slightly when Rose relaxed back into him; a small hug, a minute reflex to keep her safe. The corner of his mouth tilted upward with her muttered complaint, amused and pleased that she was well enough to be disgruntled. But, being the nerd-god that he was-in his own fanciful world-Moses looked up and around the room and said, "Well, technically we aren't underground. I'd say, if not just in a secret room through a wall in the castle then, possibly, a pocket world, on a parallel plain attached to a dimensional rip. Like a magic hidey-hole." Either, or, both sounded just about what he could imagine Professor Batman would do. Well, it would be what he would do if he was Professor Batman.

Like she'd pressed a button for automatic release, Moe's arms fell away just as soon as she tapped him. "Not a problem," he replied. Now that Rose was all better he was trying not to be aware that she was sitting between his legs and that she was a girl again. She would get up, and then him, and Moe would pretend like they'd never been in that position or anything. Curly and Larry would, he told himself, tease or get mad at him. Because the last time one of them went exploring with Rose and got all handsy, it was Larry in the position and Moe getting awkward and pissed off. "Need-need help?" Getting up... He didn't finish. His throat was closing on in appropriate thoughts and images that would get him kicked in the balls on purpose if she could read minds.

* * *

It didn't really matter to Rose if they were technically below ground or not – it was a closed off space. A creepy, dark, filled with who-knows-what closed off space. And she wanted to get  _outside_.

After allowing herself just a few more seconds of comfort, Rose leaned forward, rising to her feet. At least, she told herself, Moe was there. If she had fallen down here alone, in the dark, surrounded by things she didn't understand, the panic attack would most likely lead to her passing out. His offer for help almost made her chuckle, but she kept it to a smile and turned around, offering him a hand. "Funny, I was just about to say the same."

* * *

Surprisingly, Moses didn't blush profusely when Rose beat him to the punch. It was actually funny; him offering his assistance when she was the one in the better position to help him. He took her offered hand but did most of the work himself. He was sure that if he made her do all the work they would both end up on the floor.

* * *

Once they were both upright again, her eyes fell on the table he'd been investigating when she lost it, and a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as her mind mulled over why exactly this place seemed so abandoned. "Why would someone need a hidey-hole in the first place?" she said, gaze fixed on the strange claw-like contraption. If it was hidden in the school, chances were the person was ether a student or a teacher. And if they had to hide their work… it was probably because they were dabbling in things they shouldn't be.

Rose walked over, looking apprehensively at the scattered inventions. Everything seemed to have just been…  _left_ in this state of disarray. She ran her finger over the smooth surface of the table, and then stared at the light coat of dust that covered it. "And more importantly… what happened to them?"

* * *

Moe dusted off his rear but there was nothing there. Had him wondering if it was a standard Clean spell or if, perhaps, there was some magic-infused gizmo running around there somewhere cleaning the floors and everything else.

He followed her perusing with his own, itching to pick up everything and inspect each until he knew how each one ticked or at least how they were intended to tick. "Well, actually, depending on when Professor B was doing this stuff, could have been it was illegal and if he was found out he could have gotten into some serious trouble," he answered. Moe picked up some papers of what looked like a phone box.

* * *

"Professor B?" Rose repeated, her eyes moving to Moe questioningly. As she turned to face him, her hand brushed a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it curiously, Rose moved closer to him in order to inspect it on his watch light. The letters, written in faded black ink, were still legible… they just didn't make any sense. It wasn't written in a different language; the grouping suggested a syntax, a coherent grammatical structure. And yet… none of it made any sense.

QRW VDIH DQBPRUH UHPHPEHU WKH SDVVZRUG LW WRRN BRXU PRWKHU WKUHH JXHVVHV EXW VRPHWLPHV LW LV ZLVH WR WKLQN EDFNZDUGV

"Why would someone write down random letters?" she muttered outloud, her brows furrowing to form a crease between them. This obviously smart inventor person had written whatever this was down for a reason, she was sure of it. Lifting it to the light, the princess managed to make out a small scribble in the upper left corner: a left arrow, followed by the number three.

"Left arrow… three?" Rose repeated, pondering this riddle. The arrow was the only thing on the paper so far that wasn't a letter. A clue… but to what? Rose stared at it intently. Perhaps it was a hint to deciphering the rest? Deciphering… Cipher!

"It's a key!" the princess exclaimed loudly, having completely forgotten that she wasn't alone. This whole message was encrypted, and the owner of the lab had left himself a reminder! Perhaps some of what she found in those folders wasn't just complicated after all – it was possible he used multiple coding systems! (especially if he was trying to hide his research)

Rose's eyes glided over the clue again and again. "Left three… left three… what does it mean?" Though there were many lessons on royal etiquette she had to sit through in her life, Rose distinctly remembered the ones covering spies and covert means on communication. It was important for a monarch to know these things of course, as it could potentially save their life. Still, it had been a subject that interested her, and she had done a bit of reading on it in her own time. There were many ways to code a message, such as various substitution or transposition ciphers. In a transposition cipher, the order of the letters is scrambled according to some scheme, while a substitution simply replaced them with different ones, again according to a pattern. Rose re-read the first few combination of letters, trying to rearrange them in her head, but there were just too many consonants. Perhaps it was a substitution then? So this hint could mean…

"Three left… but what if it's not left? What if it's back? Three letters back! The Caesar Cipher!" Rose leaned over the table, grabbed a discarded quill and flipped the paper over, scribbling on it anxiously. The quill had no ink but still produced solid, black lines. In her excitement, the princess didn't even question it. "Look!" she said, shoving the note in Moe's face, "Professor B coded a message!"

NOT SAFE ANYMORE REMEMBER THE PASSWORD IT TOOK YOUR MOTHER THREE GUESSES BUT SOMETIMES IT IS WISE TO THINK BACKWARDS

Letting him read it in peace, Rose turned slightly to look at the ancient computer in the corner of the room – the only place around here one could input a password. Maybe, she thought, if they could access it, it might help them find a way out? Or, even better, maybe it somehow controlled or triggered the magic locks that kept them trapped in here? That seemed likely, seeing as whoever this lab belonged to seemed to be fond of magitech. If only they could figure out what this password was. The backwards part was easy enough, but the rest… it could be literally anything! Well… there was one very famous instance of a mother having to guess trice. Was this Professor B somehow connected to…

"I think I know what he meant," she said. Slowly, she walked over to the computer and sat down in the chair. Her finger pressed the big ON button and the machine roared to life, but something immediately felt very, very wrong. The chandelier above them suddenly flashed with an angry, red light, and Rose found herself unable to move. The computer screen before her shone in bright, ghostly green, and before she knew what was happening, something sucked her forward.

* * *

Moe went red when she caught his name for the Professor and was relieved she was distracted before he had to explain. How geek boy could he get, right? Telling her he's already named the professor for this really cool secret cave after the Dark Knight, Protector of Gotham, would be the equivalent of stamping a 'Will be a forty-year-old virgin' on his forehead.

With Rose absorbed in whatever she found interesting, Moses tried to return to looking over the schematics. He wanted to figure out if the plans were legit and the machine would actually be fully functioning. He was totally geeking out about all the magi-tech prototypes and their scattered plans. From what he could tell, some were complete but most were disregarded half way, through. Whoever Professor B was, he had a lot of ideas he was trying to implement.

When Rose muttered the first time, Moe barely heard or cared, so focused on some really complex mathematical calculations. But when she started muttering about a 'left arrow three' he pulled his head out of the papers and focused on her. Something about her words made him think comp-speak/code. Then she was shouting 'key'. He could have been wrong, but considering he knew more about computers and their languages than she did, he discarded the plans in his hand and leaned over to try to get a peek around her while he scribbled. When Rose stood to shove the paper in his face, he was momentarily derailed by the fact she'd nearly headed him in the chin. Rose was all nice and kind but he couldn't help but think she was dangerous. At least when it came to his physical well-being. He was always getting beaten around her. Or almost. Okay, maybe he was being a bit of a baby.

Having taken his minute to wussy-out over a girl harming him, Moe didn't register the note right away, or Rose moving over to the computer that had been set out of the way. But with a snap of fingers, Moses picked up on certain, disturbing words: Safe, Password, Backwards, Key, Left, 3. Hadn't he seen something, a set of plans in the many stack of papers he'd been looking through that had those exact things? Magic-tech...MAGICTECH! "No! Wait! Rose—!" But he was too late. She'd already touched the tech. She was already gone.

"Oh... Fuck." He rushed over to the empty chair and the softly green glowing screen. "Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!" FUCK! "Rose..." He groan/whine/growled, basically cursing her name and her person at that very moment. "This is a magic tech lab!" Moe pulled off his baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, then threw his damn fucking hat hard across the room. "FUCK!" He had just gotten her back, safe and alive and now he'd lost her again! Again! He wanted to rip his hair out!  _A magictech fucking lab! A fucking lab! You don't turn shit on. You don't mess with anything. You barely even_ — _no! You shouldn't touch anything! Any fucking thing, Rose!_  Moses shouted at her in his head, all the things he should have fucking said to her before!

Moe threw his fist and kicked out into empty space, grunting and cursing silently as he mentally beat himself up for not having protected her. Again. He'd been so pissed at Curly and Larry—especially Larry, whom he hadn't yet fully forgiven—for all the shit she went through down in the caverns. But now, here they are and she was in trouble again and all because he didn't fucking protect her. "Shit!" he cursed a bit louder, his face, his entire body red with anger.

Moses stopped in place, hands on his hips and stared out, angrily, into the empty room, while his mind went over how he needed to save Rose and how exactly he was going to do that. For a few moments, he couldn't get a thought clear, going back and forth between freaking out and wondering where she was, if she was safe, was she even still alive? "No. She's alive," he said out loud, the conviction in his words so strong they couldn't stay in his head. Rose was alive. She had to be. But where was she? And how was she? He could not answer those questions, so they became the first things he needed to know. How to get those answers? Well, the first logical step was to find that fucking paper and anything that had to do with computers, chairs, those words and anything else that had to do with that. "Don't worry Rose, I'll... figure this out."

* * *

In a few disorienting seconds, it was all over, and she found herself on the ground again.

Getting up and dusting herself off, Rose looked around this new, oddly quiet place… but there was nothing to see. Just an endless white space, as far as the eye could see, except a giant, square window towering in front of her. She stepped closer and put her hand to the glass. It was hard and unyielding, and what was more, through it she could still see the lab, strangely distorted and somehow… bigger? Rose put both hands on the barrier, drawing closer. No, the lab wasn't bigger. She was smaller! She was inside the computer!

"Moe! Don't sit on the chair, it's a trap!" she yelled, banging on the glass, but had no idea if he could hear a word she was saying.

Rose watched helplessly as Moe kicked up a storm in the lab. Apparently, he was unable to hear her at all, nor she him, and his attention soon diverted back to the papers. She had to give him a sign, but how? How? The princess leaned forward and pressed her forehead on the glass, trying to think. The ground beneath her hummed with the low rumble of the computer, and it strangely helped her concentrate.

Firstly, she noted, she must be trapped in some sort of virtual space. Maybe something like that pocket dimension thing Moe was talking about earlier. Secondly, there was nothing to interact with in here, no folders or a keyboard or anything else that would usually show on a desktop screen. Unless... this wasn't a desktop screen at all. Maybe it was a loading screen.

An eerie sound, something akin to a low chuckle, startled her, and she turned around sharply. To her surprise, the endless space behind her was no longer empty, as a large window had somehow popped into existence. It was plain and unassuming, a square, dark blue collection of pixels with a single, expecting, bolded word:

PASSWORD

For a second, Rose was distracted by the mere presence of the window, but movement near its lower left corner soon reminded her why she had turned around to stare at it in the first place.

"Ah... company. At last," said a raspy voice, whose owner remained hidden in the shadow of the box.

Rose swallowed hard, pressing her back firmly against the screen. The shadow stirred once again, shaking in another quiet snicker.

* * *

Moses hadn't wasted anytime crossing to the desk with the scattered papers where Rose had just been. Where she'd found something that sent her to the trap. Part of him cursed the sheer amount of things on the one table. Trying to determine what it was Rose had actually been looking at... Fucking Hell! He should have been paying attention. He should have been watching her instead of getting a hummer for the schems of Magitech. Sure, being in the lab was like dropping an alcoholic in a vat of his choice liquor. No way he could possibly resist. And the odds for him were even worse than that of the alcoholic. At least that guy would already know his addiction was dangerous. Already know he'd have to control himself. But not Moe. Magictech for the Djinn was his hobby, his dream, his obsession. And one he'd worked in controlled environments. All of his inventions had positive consequences. He used them to help people. Even the gun he'd brought down to the catacombs had helped, even if he didn't know what happened at the end, what happened to the witch, where she'd gone when she'd disappeared. But Moe had tried to ignore that particular problem. Or, if not ignore, at least not think of the outcome in a bad way.

Geez! All those times he'd heard or read about a magical being, a pillar of the community, being suspicious of or outright claim against Magical Technology, Moses North would scoff, shake his head, brush off their concerns and statements as paranoia or ignorance. 'They don't know magitech like I do' 'They are just afraid of what they don't understand' 'They are wrong! Magictech isn't dangerous if you handle it properly'. And now, there he was, standing in a room filled with all kinds of magical technology and his friend got hurt. Now, he was standing in that room, looking over inventions and schematics, one after another, and thinking how reckless and irresponsible it was to leave the shit around for anyone to find. Nevermind that he and Rose had literally stumbled onto the lab behind a hanging rug. It was just careless. And what happened to the person who owned all the inventions? Probably became a victim of his own work. And that was just proof how idiotic the professor was. Not some hero. Not for Moe. No. He could never—would never—leave his shit around for unsuspecting girls to get hurt, let alone fall victim to. "Idiot," Moe cursed quietly as he looked over a promising sheet before setting it down in the 'Not Helpful' pile.

As Moses reached for another page, he heard a small  _plink plink plink_  sound, like that of a pencil tapping glass. With a frown pulling his features down, he looked around for the source of the sound. He looked until the sound stopped, his eyes darting to the computer screen at the last moment. Just as he did, a blue box flashed onto the screen, asking for a password. But that wasn't what kept him staring at the monitor for a moment longer.

He had seen something, but he wasn't sure what it was. Had there been something there, on the screen? The Djinn shook it off after a moment and turned back to his search. Somewhere on the table there was the thing Rose had been reading. He just had to find it.

* * *

The entity behind the box moved.

Rose flattened against the glass — there was nowhere left to go. "Who... are you?"

The owner of the voice stepped forward, and the princess sucked in a breath. Whatever she was expecting, it certainly was not this. Instead of a person emerging out of the shadows, the creature before her seemed to consist of fraying black pixels. The shape, though definitely human, kept shifting and changing like sand right before her very eyes, leaving bits of itself behind when it moved.

"It is not important," it said, its voice decidedly male. "The more interesting question is, who are you? A new assistant? One of his students?" Rose didn't reply. The shape shrugged. A few more pixels peeled from its form, dissolving into nothing. "I suppose it doesn't matter, I'll have to kill you anyway. It's nothing personal, you understand. I was programmed that way."

Rose's breath hitched in her throat. The shape lifted its arm, and it morphed into a long, black blade. It slashed at her, but she managed to duck under the swing and slip behind him, heart thundering in her ears.

"I didn't mean any harm!" she shouted desperately.

The shape turned around. "That's beside the point. You sat on the chair, you tried to access forbidden files. It's my job to make sure you stop breathing." It came at her again, and she jumped behind the password box, barely keeping her left arm.

"I don't want to access the files! I just want to get out of here!" the princess said again, though it was becoming clear that reason would not do her any good. This was some sort of... program.

"To tell you the truth, I'd rather keep you alive," it said casually, swinging the blade again, though she managed to avoid it, thanking Max in her head for never holding back in their training. "It's been a while since the last guy." The next hit chipped away some of the password box.

Rose ran again, keeping the program on the opposite side.

"It's pointless," it said, slowly circling the box, clearly in no rush. Rose hid from sight. "There's nowhere to go."

She tried to remain calm, back pressed to the box, chest rising and falling rapidly. Another swing coming for her head missed by inches as she rolled out of the way, sprinting for the far edge of the password box, the only object she could use as a barrier.

The program approached slowly, sword scraping the ground as it walked. Then it stopped, turning its faceless head to the window. "Ah, I see. You're stalling." Its attention returned to her. "He'll just end up here too. Chair sensors never fail."

A chill of terror travelled down Rose's spine. She wished there was a way to warn Moe about this, some way to tell him, but just as fear was threatening to choke her, Larry's words rang in her memory.

_I suppose I never felt in any real danger. Not with Moe and Curly and you there to help._

Rose pursed her lips, hands balling into fists. The program was wrong. Moe saw her fall into the trap, he would be smart enough to avoid it. He was going to find a solution, and he was going to get her out. She just needed to last until he did.

* * *

Moe was on the floor, scratching his jaw absentmindedly as he sifted through papers and schematics on the floor. His worry and impatience having left him a while ago, replaced by deadly determination. The same that he'd had down in the catacombs. The one that had him willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to get to Rose. The one willing to sacrifice himself.

And he was.

A glance at the clock on the wall, that one with time broken down into minute detail, told him that it had been sometime last week when he had found schematics. Not the schems for the computer or chair, but one for Time Dilation. The professor—as he'd returned to calling him—had created a cuff, of sorts, that allowed the user to move within time at a deferment rate than that of a non-wearer. Though both would experience time, the user was able to speed up or slow down the time around him. In Moe's case, he slowed the time around him. Hence the week. His week, everyone else's minute.

Moses was just about to discard a sheet into the seemingly suspended discard paper pile that hung around him—still in the process of falling in the real world—when what he'd just scanned replayed in his head; 'The next time he tries, he'll be PWNED.'

PWNED!

It was a term, a mistake by a long time hacker who had sent a message out to his recent victim. He'd meant to say 'Owned' but his finger slipped, a typo he'd been unable to fix before he sent it. But shit! None of that mattered! This was something Moses had been looking for! This was hacker speak. His speak!

The Djinn snatched the paper back and stood, the suspended pile around him bowing as he moved. Focusing in, Moe saw he hadn't been looking at schems so much as he was looking at a sheet of the Professor's journal. A journal! Feeling intense anticipation, Moses froze where he stood and downloaded all the words on the one sheet. Anything that pertained to the hacker, pwnage, anything computer related because there was only one computer in the whole lab. One. And in order to save Rose, he needed to know about anything and everything about it.

Once the sheet was read, Moses fell to his knees to sift even faster. No longer reading the words, Moe's brain search for patterns, commonalities; the type of paper, size of paper, computer speak. In a day/fraction-of-a-second he'd gathered a few pages and the actual journal itself. He was anxious as hell because some of the pages had been torn out or fallen out and he knew he hadn't gotten them all. But he couldn't worry about that now. No. So he read and flipped and read again. New code. New information. New source.

From the beginning he gathered that the Prof had assistants, two to be exact. Both he had trusted, until he realized some of his ideas and inventions were going missing or being tampered with. Prior to this he had been keeping everything on his computer. Post, he got the journal. The prof had ranted and raved at first, accusing both of ruining his work. When neither admitted to any sabotage—under extreme duress—the Prof believed that someone else was getting in. Thus the anti-virus.

"Shit."

Moe looked up at the computer and the desk, and the chair, and back to the journal. "Fuck. Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!" The djinn abandoned the journal and rushed to the workstation he'd rigged for himself: a Bluetooth keyboard connected to the only piece of working coding tech he had: his phone. Quickly he accessed Cloud9, a full-featured  **web-based IDE**  where he'd been building his code, his weapon. His fingers flew over the keys, but when it took a while for the code to be sent and accepted, Moses remembered the cuff and sped himself up to match the world around.

Moe stood up straight and looked down at the screen. "Okay. Okay." He could do this. "Yup." The hacker cracked his knuckles, wrung out his arms, and after he made sure the connection was as secure as he could make it, he tethered the phone to the computer. Then he set to work.

Fingers flying over the keyboard, Moses North found his girl and the anti-virus he'd read about in the journals, and set the arena for show down. Once he had the codes adjusted to his liking, Moe sighed with satisfaction. "Okay, Rose. I'm coming."

* * *

The blade missed her by a hair. Rose ran again, thinking that this was the exact sort of thing she had wanted to train for, but now that it was actually time to implement some of that skill, she had no idea what to do. You can't disarm something that can morph its own body into a weapon, and what use would punching it be? It's wasn't human.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her shook. The princess lost her balance and fell with a grunt, bruising her elbow in the process. She picked herself up just as swarms of pixels rose up from the hard, white surface, forming tall, misshapen blobs. Rose whipped around, spotting the program, which waddled clumsily in her direction while more and more white pixels erupted from the ground, getting in its way and hiding her from view. She scrambled to her feet and swayed backwards, bumping into something hard. The white silhouettes around her began to take on more solid outlines, filling in with colour and texture. Rose looked up, where thick white columns expanded and connected into an arch. Her hand felt the blocky pixels behind her turn into cold stone. Sand crunched under her feet, the emptiness around her filled with tall walls, stone arches and bright sunlight. Cheers were coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

All of a sudden, Rose was standing in the middle of a coliseum.

Snapping out of her confusion, the princess remembered that there was an enemy nearby; her guard should not be coming down, not even for a second. Just as her mind focused more intently on the reason for this abrupt change, something else moved in the air. More pixels appeared out of nothing, gathering in a spot two steps away, converging into a tall, white, muscular figure, with a big green M across his chest and a billowing green cape. Like a... like a superhero. Rose's heart skipped a beat. She knew he would come for her! Suddenly, a black blur cut through the air, and M had to raise his arm to block it.

"And who might you be?" she shadow asked, half-amused, half curious.

M didn't answer. As the two exchanged blows, Rose retreated back to the entrance of the area, where the blue Password box still stood. She raised her hand, gently tapping the white strip under the word. Floating letters appeared below, like the keys on her phone, and she quickly pressed a few in succession. The box flashed red. Rose grumbled under her breath, hearing the clanks of swords clashing behind her. She had to think, and think fast. Guessing thrice was closely associated with one story she could recall, the one of a Queen having promised her firstborn to a spirit, who, when the time came to collect, agreed to give her three guesses to say his name. Rumpelstiltskin. But that didn't work! Rose remembered the professor's obsession with codes, and the cryptic message. Maybe the password was supposed to be in code? She tried to think. What else did that note say?

_SOMETIMES IT IS WISE TO THINK BACKWARDS_

A light came on in her mind. She whipped around quickly to make sure M was still holding his own. He had cuts all over his enormous biceps, but so did the other program. Both of them were bleeding pixels, which evaporated before reaching the ground. Rose turned forward again, determination shining in her eyes, and pressed the keys again.

_N-I-K-S-T-L-I-T-S-L-E-P-M-U-R_

A bright light blinded her, engulfing all her senses.

-O-

Soft footsteps echoed against the floor. Rose tried to blink once, twice, and opened her eyes to a blurry room. Her retinas still hurt, and she tried to keep herself from wincing. Her other senses kicked in, and she realised she was lying in a bed, and that someone was snoring like an active wood chipper next to her. After a few more blinks her vision cleared somewhat, and Rose saw that she was in the Infirmary.

"Ah, you're awake," the nurse said, smiling kindly at her.

Rose frowned. "Was I asleep?" She tried to recall what had happened after she input the password, but it was all a blank.

"Your friend here brought you over," the nurse said, inclining her head to the right. Rose turned, and only then realised that Moe was sitting in a chair next to her bed, arms and head propped on the chair back as he slept. So that was where that snoring was coming from. "He explained it all to the teachers but refused to leave your side until you woke up," the nurse elaborated. "Some sort of magitech misadventure? He said he managed to gain access to the computer's software and implement it to help his own little program, but when he pulled you out you were unresponsive."

Rose tried to remember, but all that did was cause her a headache. She groaned softly, placing a hand on her forehead.

"Don't push yourself, dear," the nurse said kindly. "You still need rest."

"How... how long was I...?"

"Just a few hours. I did a full physical when he brought you in, but you had just fainted. Nothing long-lasting."

"And him?"

The nurse smiled as her eyes shifted to the snoring Moe. "Stress and blood pressure was high, but I can't really blame the poor boy. He was almost in a state of panic when you came in. Wouldn't let me touch him until I reassured him you'd be fine."

A hot lump stung Rose's throat. She reached and gently squeezed his hand, which was hanging carelessly from the chair back. She would never had been so bold had Moe been awake, but she couldn't help herself.

"You should let him rest; it'll do him some good. You can head now, though, if you're feeling better?" the nurse suggested. "I'll let him know when he wakes up."

Rose shook her head. "I want to stay with him."

The nurse smiled. "Of course, dear. Let me know when you two are ready to go."


	26. Chapter 26

Max pushed open the metal door that led into the training arena. He had his gym bag slung over his shoulder and in both hands he carried a cup of coffee – one for him and one for Rose... He hoped she liked coffee. Who didn't like coffee? It was his saving grace every morning. And it was far too early. Well, it was early for a weekend day. It was almost 8AM, and that was the time that he and Rose agreed upon to meet. For a few months now, Rose and himself met two or three times a week to work on her defense skills. Some days they worked on weaponry and other days—like today—they worked on hand-to-hand combat. He told her that day at the shooting range that he would help her become better in protecting herself, and he was sticking to his word.

He took a seat on the bench against the far right wall, next to the punching bags and weights. No one else was here just yet, and he found those to be the best times. There was no waiting for equipment, and when it was just him and Rose, he felt like some of the pressure was off because there were no watching eyes. Just them doing their thing.

Yawning before running a hand over his face to wipe the sleep out of his eyes, he brought his piping hot coffee to his lips and took a sip. He would become fully alert when Rose was here and they were moving around and getting blood flowing, but for now he lazily enjoyed the dark roast brew and solitude.

* * *

The brilliant thing about meeting Max so early in the morning was that most of the school was still asleep. The hallways were deserted, the classrooms—empty; there was no one who could see Rose briskly walk down the stairs or hear the footsteps echo in the morning air.

And yet, despite the fact that there was no one around and that she wasn't really doing anything wrong, the princess was still nervous about being found out. If her parents knew about this, they would immediately demand she stop these lessons. Defence, Rogers would say, was the job of the guards, and she should not be risking injury to learn something this undignified. Perhaps if they knew what she had been up to since starting in the academy, or if they had been aware Odile had made an attempt on her life already they might concede, but… they weren't. Because if they were, they would pull her out of Andover in a heartbeat.

The only incident the school attempted to inform them of was the Halloween debacle, but the message had thankfully been intercepted by King William, Rose's grandfather, and what happened in the catacombs and elsewhere had never reached faculty ears. Rose felt a little guilty about not saying anything, but it was the only way.

Carefully peeking in to make sure the coast was clear, she spotted Max and headed over to where he was.

"Good morning," she said, holding on to the strap of her gym bag with both hands and giving him a small smile.

* * *

Maxon was completely zen as he sat there on the bench. Early mornings were easy for his over-active mind to zone out and just relax. He was almost so relaxed that he was about to drift off back to sleep if it hadn't been for the screech of the gym door echoing in the quiet room. He opened his eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of blonde hair slipping back behind the cracked door before it completely opened and Rose walked in.

He understood why she wanted to keep their meetings secret; she didn't want her parents to find out. He couldn't say he fully understood why her parents would be so upset at the fact that their daughter was learning how to defend herself. A princess she was, but that didn't mean she should ever have to be a damsel in distress if any unfortunate situation took place.

"Good morning." He gave her a greeting smile back as he held out a cup to her. "Coffee?"

* * *

"Thank you."

Rose took the coffee and sat down next to Max. It was still early morning, and it was clear to her he'd rather finish his drink first, so the princess dropped her gym bag to the floor and wrapped both hands around the warm cup. She took a sip and stole a quick side-glance at him. A question was swirling around in her head, something she wasn't sure he'd have the answer to, but she had thought about as of late. Should she even ask it? It was really not her place to know, but… it was bothering her.

"Hey, Max? You're… you're close with Ursula, right?" Her voice was even, yet still hesitant, and her eyes were glued to the drink in her hands. "Has she told you… Do you by any chance know what she and Curly are doing when they meet up for Madical Defence? I mean, the only thing he's said is that she's helping him with the class, but… I don't know. He always dodges the subject, and he looks so… so  _exhausted_  after their meetings. I just… I worry. Ursula is not exactly known for being gentle, and I keep thinking that she might be pushing him too hard, or… I don't know. That's just the thing.  _I don't know_." And it was bugging her.

These private lessons, or whatever they were, had been going on for the last few months or so, and the fact that Curly always seemed to try to distract her from the subject whenever she brought it up only fuelled this odd suspicion in her gut. Something was going on in that Attic, something he wasn't immediately willing to share, and that in itself was strange. He wasn't usually one to keep secrets, and though Rose hadn't directly confronted him about it, it was obvious he wasn't too eager to tell her. Which was perfectly okay... at first. But they kept meeing and meeting and meeing, and Rose started getting this strange feeling, like a cold weight in her stomach. Maybe she was overreacting for no reason. Maybe those were just normal study sessions. But... there was something in the way his smile seemed just a little strained when he tried to reassure her that it was no big deal. It almost made her feel like... like he was trying to hide something.

The thought was certainly far from pleasant, however… if something else really  _was_  up, it was his right to keep these things private. If he didn't want to share details, she should leave the matter alone, because it was his own choice how much of it he wished to disclose. He didn't have to tell her about this. What he and Ursula did when they were alone was none of her business.

Rose sighed. She really, really shouldn't ask. So why did she?

* * *

Max nodded his head to her when she thanked him, his way of saying she was welcome. When she didn't automatically insist they start training or demand for him to wake up and get energized, he sighed with relief. Still, he didn't want to leave her hanging or make her feel like he wasn't interested in practice today. So, he took as large of a sip as the hot coffee would allow and start to put a stop to all of his laziness.

"Uh…" He didn't know how to quite answer her question. Was he close with Ursula? What level of closeness? No one knew about their couple of trysts, so he knew Rose meant on a platonic level. Best friend? No, Sula probably wouldn't announce him as her best friend. It was probably because he almost killed her, which was completely a freak, and now looking back on it, funny accident. But friends? Yes, he considered her a friend. She saved his life. He trusted her. "We're friends, yeah." He had absolutely no idea where Rose was going with her question, but if he had to guess, he thought it was going to be a question about how Sula's demeanor was. Sula was blunt and a lot of the times came off crass. She had a dirty mouth and an even dirtier mind. She was wickedly funny if you just got past the shock factor of what flew out of her mouth. He thought Sula might've said something to Rose.

What she did ask was not what he expected, and it was something he couldn't answer. "I don't know." Sula didn't tell him about her meeting Curly and helping him study or whatever. There was a small twinge in him at her description. Ignoring it the best he could, he just sipped his coffee again. "Sula has never brought up that she helps Curly." He noticed Rose's sigh and wondered what was the matter. Was she upset Curly wasn't telling her everything or was she just worried about him or was there something else? "If they're doing magical defense, she's really good at what she does." And what that girl did was some powerful magic. "She's probably just pushing him because she knows it'll help him and he can handle it. Kind of like how I push you." He reached out and lightly patted her knee. He tried to be reassuring, though he didn't truly know himself.

* * *

"Right," Rose said quietly, fingers tightening around the cup. The coffee was getting cold, or maybe it was just her.

It was a longshot anyway; Ursula never felt the need to explain herself to anyone or tell people where she was going after class. Max was the only person Rose could, or even would, ask, but if he didn't know, maybe it was a sign that she just wasn't supposed to find out.

"I know it's not my place to ask," Rose continued in the same muted tone, "and I know it's their business what they do and that I should leave it alone. I just..." One hand left the cup to curl over her chest, where that cold feeling was taking root. "I don't know why I feel this way. There's this… this  _tightness_ in my chest, and no matter how hard I try not to think about it, my mind simply won't let me. My thoughts keep running back to it, and I keep wondering, and I know I shouldn't, but I do." Such a pointless, selfish thought. What would it even change if she knew? Why did it matter? Why did she want to meddle in his personal affairs? It was Curly's secretiveness, she thought, the impression that he was trying to keep to himself. It was out of place, unusual for him, and it set off alarms in her head.

Or maybe that was simply her mind trying to rationalise it, because the way she felt wasn't rational at all.

He was probably just tired from the studying. There was a plethora of perfectly good, personal reasons why he wouldn't want to share; there was no real indication something was wrong, no real reason for her to worry. So what was that cold heaviness doing in her chest, then?

"I'm just terribly entitled, aren't I," Rose muttered, more to herself than to Max. "He doesn't owe me anything. Why do I want to know so badly?"

* * *

Max felt a little guilt for not being able to give Rose the information she was seeking. He honestly had no clue about Sula and Curly's meetings, and he probably never would unless he asked. Thinking about it, Sula probably wouldn't like that he was asking up about her private life. It wasn't his concern, because it had nothing to do with him, and there was no indication that Sula was going to be harmed in any way so he should just keep his nose out of it. But now he was curious and found himself wondering why  _did_  Curly look so exhausted...

If you asked him if he was jealous, Max would deny it, but honestly, he didn't know what he was feeling right now. It wasn't anger, but something other.

As Rose talked, he found himself coming out of whatever feelings he had and focusing on her. The quiet tone of her voice, the way she wasn't looking at him but idly down at her coffee, and the note that hung in her words that told him she wasn't okay. "Terribly entitled would be if you screamed at him and demanded he tell you at once." Rose was not entitled in the sense they were talking about. She was poise and diplomatic almost to a fault. She was kind and never once tried to pry information out of him if he wasn't willing to give it.

Lightly swishing his coffee around on his cup, he made an effort to help her. "Rose," he started, unsure on if she would receive his question well or not. "Do you think you like Curly? As more than just a friend?" He wasn't a girl. He wasn't an expert who knew how to perfectly talk about boys and crushes and deciphering feelings, nor did he want to, but he did want to help his friend. Over the time he's come to know Rose, he bonded with her. To see her struggling with a feeling made him want to help. Plus, the fact that Rose as even talking to him about this at all, telling him she didn't know why she was feeling what she was, that was huge... Right? "That could be that tightening in your chest."

* * *

Even though she mostly felt sad at the moment, Max's words manged to spark something inside Rose, and she had to try very hard to keep down a frustrated sigh. There it was again, that 'more' thing.  _Why did people keep saying that?_ Cat, Rhett, even the Fairy Godmother herself had made a suggestive comment of that nature. In another situation, she might have laughed or refuted the claim, or rolled her eyes dismissively. This time, though, she just felt like she couldn't be bothered to explain why that was wrong. It was tiresome to repeat herself constantly.

The coffee swished in the cup as she put it down on the bench sharply and stood up. "Are you ready to start now? The more time we spend dawdling, the higher the chance of someone coming in here to train."

* * *

Maxon set his cup between his knees and throw up his hands in surrender when Rose denied his suggestion. "Okay." The only person he would push to tell him who they were crushing on was his sister, and if he learned anything, it was not to push. Cathalina would usually snap or jump on top of him, pillow in hand, and try to smother him. Not that he thought Rose would do that, but he wanted her to know he'd drop the subject if that's what she wanted.

He set his cup down and unzipped his gym bag, reaching inside to find some boxing tape for their hands. "I don't think coffee is dawdling, I think it's a morning staple. Like breakfast. You must have it or else your day will just be shit." He handed out a roll of tape to her. "Remember how to wrap your hands?"

* * *

Rose nodded and took the faded white rolls.

The first time she tried this, she made such a tangle of things that Max had to spend fifteen minutes trying to undo it, but she was quite used to the routine by now. Four times around the wrist, three around the palm, once around the thumb, and then alternating between her fingers and palm. It took a few minutes for her to wrap both hands, taking care not to make any wrinkles and have it just tight enough, and once the Velcro at the end was secure, Rose gathered her blonde locks into a high ponytail to keep it out of the way. Then the two of them did a few warm-up exercises, which left her out of breath before the real training had even begun.

The princess walked to the middle of the training mat and took a defensive stance, waiting for Max to make the first move, and tried to push all thoughts of Curly and Ursula to the background.

* * *

-O-

Eyes blank, not paying attention to where he was going, Curly left the infirmary, letting his feet carry him where they would. Down a long hall and through a door, the bright sunlight of outside making him squint. It helped to bring him back to himself, enough to look around at the courtyard he had entered and decide to make his way over to the wall by the gazebo. He walked around to the opposite side, out of sight from the usual foot traffic passing through, and sat with his back against the wall. The stone was warm from the sun at this time of day but Curly almost didn't feel it, the cold in him having nothing to do with the beautiful spring weather.

He had nearly killed her. Nearly killed Sula, his friend. She was easily one of his favorite people at this school, even if she could be downright mean at times, and because of him, she was in the infirmary, half-conscious. Giddy and giggly and practically high as a kite from the extra energy and magic he had poured into her trying to fix his mistake, but that didn't even begin to make what he had nearly done better. He couldn't get the sight of her emaciated, drained body out of his head.

Burying his head in his hands, fingers pulling his hair taut against his scalp in an attempt to ground himself, Curly tried desperately to banish the image. To think of Sula as the bright, vibrant person she usually was. But the image of what he'd done to her just would not go away.

* * *

Ow. Ow ow ow ow.

Rose tentatively tried to move her sore shoulder, which sent little shocks of pain through her. She winced, stopping in her tracks to let it subside

This really wasn't Max's fault. She had specifically asked him not to hold back, and he hadn't. She'd just been... sloppy. Distracted. Hesitant. Everything she wasn't supposed to be in a hand-to-hand match.

The early April sun shone brightly in the sky as she entered into the courtyard, the fastest way back to her dorm. She still wore her black-and-pink cropped leggings and the matching pink running jacket, although she had a clean t-shirt underneath. Max had told her a soak in the gym showers would relax her muscles and help with the bruises which had no doubt already started to appear. If only he knew...

The lightning-quick shower she'd taken did not make her feel better. In fact, it made things worse. Maybe if she had been one of those people that could spend hours under running water it might have helped. Maybe it could have washed away the conversation she'd had with Max. Washed away her doubts, her worries, all those thoughts that led to nowhere.

Suddenly, Rose stopped again the middle of the courtyard. No, she realised. Water was not what she needed. She needed...

Her eyes slowly fell shut. A slight breeze whispered in the leaves as she tilted her head up, letting the soft sunlight shine down on her face. It was warm. A smile bloomed on her lips, and she finally felt herself relaxing. Slowly, she shrugged off the gym bag and let it fall on the path, an action which Rogers would not have been happy about. Ladies do not leave their possessions on the ground, he would say. But who could care about that, when the sunlight was caressing her face, melting the ball of ice in her chest? It was so nice to just stand there under the sun and feel its warmth on her skin.

Pretty soon her shoulder didn't hurt as much. Her thoughts weren't as weighted and cold. She was no longer trying to forget the earlier conversation. It was okay to think about it now.

_I know it's their business what they do and that I should leave it alone._

_He doesn't owe me anything._

_Why do I want to know so badly?_

Sula's probably just pushing him because she knows it'll help him and he can handle it, Max had said. This was probably true. Whatever was going on with Curly, and she knew that there was something, he would tell her if he was in trouble. This mental conclusion made her feel better. Rose took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Just a few short minutes in the sun, and she felt somehow happier. Lighter. Her previous doubts seemed insignificant now, even silly.

The princess opened her eyes and realised she was still smiling. She bent down to retrieve her gym bag and slung it over her good shoulder. Part of her didn't really want to go inside yet, but she knew it would be wise to change out of these clothes before someone asked her what she was doing. She'd only made a few steps down the path, however, when she saw someone else cross the courtyard. Curly.

Rose felt as if the sunlight somehow reached inside her, purging the last bits of ice from her chest. She waved at him happily, but he didn't seem to notice her. Instantly, she knew that something was wrong.

His expression was blank. His eyes were glassy. He moved as if in a trance, not registering anything around him. Rose's smile withered as her hand fell back to her side, and she watched him make his way to the gazebo and disappear behind the wall.

Cautiously, she followed him. When she reached the edge of the wall, Rose put a hand over the stone and hesitated. Should she leave him alone? Perhaps he didn't want to be disturbed. Perhaps he wouldn't want her to see him like this, clearly rattled by something. Rose took a step back. He was hiding. She should respect that.

Then, out of nowhere, she flashed back to last Halloween, when the two of them were on the opposite sides of a tree, just like now. It was her that had been hiding then. She'd told him not to follow, but he did anyway. She had told him to go away when he found her, but he didn't. She always did this. Every time she wanted him to stay, she told him to leave. But he didn't. Because he knew somehow, even when she didn't, that she needed him.

He'd never abandoned her. And she wasn't going to, either.

Rose gripped the strap of her gym bag tighter and stepped around the corner. What she saw instantly turned her heart to ice again. He was sitting there, back to the wall, pulling at his hair. She couldn't see his face, but there was an awful, sinking feeling in her stomach that he was close to tears.

The gym bag dropped in the grass as she was suddenly down on her knees. Without even thinking of propriety or etiquette or social standing, her hand rose and gently gripped his shoulder.

"Curly?" she said softly. "What happened?

* * *

The sound of something hitting the ground nearby didn't immediately draw Curly's attention, but the hand on his shoulder did. He looked up to see Rose on her knees in the grass beside him, her expression creased with worry. For a half second, the workout clothes she wore threw him but then he remembered that she had been training with Max for months now. She must have just finished a session. Or maybe she was on her way to one.

"Rose. Hey. It's nothing, I'm fine," Curly said, attempting to muster a smile. He thought he might have done a decent job, but ran his fingers through his hair for good measure, hoping to fix whatever mess he'd made of it with the pulling. His hands shook, a fine tremor along each digit, so he tucked them between his legs and turned up the wattage on his smile. "How are you? Training go okay?"

Reassure. Deflect. He didn't want to worry Rose—that concerned crease on her face made his stomach drop. And… he couldn't tell her what he'd almost done. That Sula had come so close to dying because of him. Rose didn't need to deal with his mess. He could manage it. He would be fine. Eventually.

* * *

As soon as he spoke, Rose felt a chill wrap around her heart again. She saw his hand tremble as he ran it through his hair, and for a split second Rose had the strange urge to take it in hers. But then he hid it away, and the words he spoke sank in.

"You're lying," she said. She wasn't blaming or accusing him of anything. Rose was simply stating the facts. "You're not fine."

This was such an obvious move. He was trying to distract her from the problem, downplay it so she doesn't worry. He always did that. Did he really think she would buy it? That she would let him change the subject? Thoughts and emotions were chasing each other in her head, but the princess couldn't catch them, organize them, turn them into comforting words. All she knew was that she desperately wanted him to feel better but had no idea how to express all of that. With a chilly heaviness in her chest, she realised that had the tables been turned, he would know exactly what to say to get her to open up. He could probably just  _smile at her_ and it would make her feel better. But the trouble here was... that Rose was did not know how to be comforting. She'd never comforted anyone before; she ever had anyone  _to_  comfort.

In short, he needed her, and she was failing him.

Her mind raced. She didn't know what to do. The only thing that she think of... was what he'd taught her.

Her grip on his shoulder tightened gently. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. You don't have to. But... someone important to me once said... that it's okay to lean on your friends." She gave him a small smile. He probably didn't even remember he'd said that.

* * *

While he hadn't really thought Rose would just believe him and drop the subject, Curly was not expecting her to call him out on his lies. He just stared at her, slightly flabbergasted. It probably shouldn't have been so surprising that she didn't fall for his act—she had had almost a whole school year to get to know him. They were as close friends as he was with Larry and Moe and neither of them would have believed that 'I'm fine' any more than Rose apparently had.

It was tempting to try again, put her off and change the subject. But then she squeezed his shoulder and said something that sounded so familiar, he actually wondered if it was something he or one of the other Stooges had said to her. It made him smile for just a second, shaking his head with a small huff of a laugh. "Someone gives you pretty good advice."

The smile was quick to disappear though, his mind returning to Sula once more. "It's… about Sula. I…" He wasn't sure how to say it.  _I almost killed her_. That was just too blunt for him to take right now. Taking a deep breath, Curly pursed his lips and blew it out, giving himself time to think. "You know she's been helping me with Magical Defense, right? Do you… know what that involves?"

He wasn't sure if any of his friends knew the answer to that. If they had thought about what he did in Magical Defense, they probably figured he was there to boost his healing ability. They probably wouldn't think about the possibility of flipping it, just like he hadn't. Not until the Fairy Godmother had pointed it out to him and talked him into taking the class. If they'd known… he knew they wouldn't like it. The whole idea went against everything that made up Curran Fitzherbert. They would have tried to talk him out of it and he couldn't let them do that. Not when the whole reason he was doing it was to better protect them.

* * *

Rose's hand fell away as her body tensed like a wound up spring, her posture straightened and her face slipped into controlled, polite indifference. She shifted the weight of her body so that she would be sitting more properly, still facing him as etiquette required. In the last year Rose had come a long way in feeling more comfortable in her own skin, more relaxed and real with the people around her, but in moments like these, when she felt nervous or scared, she reverted back to her old self, back into the princess who never showed that she felt anything. It as a self-defence mechanism.

"No, I do not," she spoke, her voice perfectly measured and even. "Since you frequently dodge the topic like it carries the bubonic plague, I assumed that you either weren't doing something truly dangerous, in which case you would have said something, or that you were doing something... private. You do seem unharmed, so I assume it was the latter. But yes, I did wonder what it was. And yes, it did bother me that you wouldn't tell me." The monotone of her voice wavered. The mask was starting to crack.

Rose had to stop and compose herself. Emotions were bubbling just under the surface, and if she wasn't careful they would... Her hands, properly poised at her knees, curled into fists. She took a deep breath. When she spoke again, the princess mask had completely melted away. She couldn't keep this up. Not with Curly.

"Listen, Curly," she said softly, eyes cast down. "As your friend, I will support you 100%, no matter which girl... But from all the girls in this huge castle, why did it have to be her?" She didn't dare meet his eyes, too afraid she would see them angry. As the words simply poured out of her, Rose realised that she'd been holding a lot in for a very, very long time. "Why not that girl that always pesters you for pens? Why not that jungle girl you went on a date with? Why not any of the girls that giggle when you walk by? Why not... why not anyone else? I just... I..." she floundered, not sure how to continue this. "If your heart is set on her, like I said, I'll give it my all to be nice to her and be supportive, but I'm sorry, she is just wrong for you." Her eyes finally snapped to meet his.

There. She'd said it. Maybe she shouldn't have, but it was how she felt and she was not about to hide it, because she believed the sentiment from the bottom of her soul. Suddenly, a surge of irritation coursed through her. Just why?! Of all the girls that fawned over him, why did he have to pick the one that would suit him the least?!

"You can have your pick from half the school, but you decide on her? Ursula Hook is absolutely the most incompatible person you could have chosen to be with," Rose said passionately. "She has no respect for anyone, she's too rough around the edges, too crass, too into dark magic, too... too..." Words were failing her again. "I can't even put it into words how badly she suits you! What is it that you even like about her? I mean outside of the obvious. And she dresses in a... in a..." Her hands made small, animated circles, looking for the exact words. "In a more... visually attractive fashion."  _Revealing_ felt like too crass a word to use. "And she always has that mysterious smirk, like you don't know if she'll tell you a joke or hit you with a spell, and fine, she looks like a model on a magazine cover and she is powerful and confident and she makes you laugh, but I mean..." Rose was starting to lose steam. She'd talked herself into a corner, which only frustrated her more. "She's violent and her sense of humour is too dark and... and... And I don't like her." Out of things to say, Rose crossed her arms huffily. "You're too good for her!"

As soon as she said it, she felt her face growing hot. This was so beyond immature, but she didn't care. It was his fault for bringing this up anyway! What did he expect her to say?

* * *

Almost immediately, Curly missed the warmth of Rose's hand on his shoulder and looked up with confusion at her withdrawal. After the initial worry for the way she put on her princess face—cold and closed off, but only for a few seconds—he listened to her speech with confusion, then as comprehension set in, growing incredulity and shock.

She thought he was…  _dating_ Sula? Or… oh god, the thought that she might think he was doing  _something else_ , with  _Sula_ of all people, left him feeling slightly hysterical. In other circumstances, that might have manifested as laughter (okay, it almost definitely would have manifested as laughter and he might even be able to laugh looking back on this conversation one day), but given that he had just put Sula in the infirmary, the humor of the situation was far from his mind.

"You think I'm," he started, expression contorting with the mix of emotions running through him. "That I'm…" He couldn't even bring himself to say any of what had crossed his mind. "With  _Sula_?"

He drew back, shaking his head repeatedly as he waved his hands in front of him, forearms still braced on his knees, as if that would wipe the idea of him with Sula like that from between them. "I would  _never_ … I mean, you're right, she's very pretty," he said, hands continuing to move with his words, a sure sign of his agitation, "but she's like… she's like… and I'm just a…" He turned his head to look at Rose, eyes wide. "Do you realize how scary she is? And I'm not… I'm not talking about the magic and the attitude, though yeah, that does make her pretty intimidating, but like… in  _that_ sense? She'd eat me alive! It's like…" he looked away, searching for words, "like she's a lion, big scary predatory lion, and I'm… I'm a rabbit. Yeah, I'm a rabbit, and if she looked at me like that I'd just… I'd freeze, and hope that that lion passes me by for… for some juicier prey, or something."

When Curly looked back at Rose, he was only slightly less freaked out. "That is  _not_ what we've been doing. Absolutely not. I am in no way, shape or form having a romantic relationship of any kind with Sula. I… honestly have no idea why you would think that."

Guilt at what had happened returned and Curly bowed his head, fingers twisting together. "That's definitely not where I was going with that lead-in…"

* * *

Rose wasn't sure why she thought Curly was so adorable when he babbled like this. The frustration deflated like a punctured balloon, and she found herself trying to fight a smile when he started waving his hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of the air.

He was too good for Ursula. Not good as in better, just as in...  _good_. Too kind, too trusting, too good-natured. But maybe... that was what he liked about her. Maybe they balanced each other out? Who was she to cast judgement anyway?

"You don't know why I'd think that?" she repeated softly. "You don't see that twinkle in her eyes when she looks at you sometimes? And was I wrong to think you enjoy her company? You spend a lot of time alone, and she... makes you laugh..." Rose trailed off. "What else was I supposed to think?" The princess studied his face carefully, but what she saw was that he still seemed kind of nervous and shaken. Suddenly, Rose felt bad about snapping at him. A voice in the back of her head hissed angrily that he was only saying that to placate her, but the princess ignored it. If Curly said he wasn't romantically involved with Ursula, she believed him. And he still looked so...

Guilt washed over her like a hot, sticky wave. He was clearly upset about something that had happened and here she was, grilling him about his relationships. It wasn't right.

"Curly, just so you know, if you did feel that way about Ursula... Or if you started to, somewhere down the line... that's okay." Why did those words sound so sad? "In the end all I want is for you to be happy, and if she can give you that, then..." She tried for a nonchalant shrug. Then her eyes fell on his hands, nervously tangled in knots, and Rose remembered how they'd shaken when he ran them through his hair. Not knowing why, without even consciously deciding to do it, she reached and gently closed her palms around his.

"If it wasn't a romantic spat, what happened between you two? Did you say something stupid and make her mad?" Rose managed to look him in the eye again and smiled slightly. She wasn't the best person to be giving out relationship advice, seeing as she knew nothing about relationships, but she was a girl, after all, so maybe she could offer a different perspective.

* * *

Glancing at Rose, Curly debated just dropping the 'Rose thinks Sula and I are dating or otherwise involved' thing in favor of just telling her what happened and getting it over with but… he really didn't want to tell her. A distraction, even one that was only temporary, was welcome. Besides, he still didn't get it.

"I spend a lot of time with Larry and Moe, and they make me laugh, but you don't seem to be under the impression that I'm having secret relationships with them," he said, looking down at Rose's hands as they gripped his. He lightly ran his thumbs over the back of her hands. "Which I wouldn't do, by the way.

"And Sula and I… we're just friends. Even if she ever  _was_ serious about… you know,  _dating_ , I don't think I'd be interested, because we-we just want different things out of life, so it's like you said. We're not compatible."

He looked up, taking in her small smile, the gentleness of her hands around his, and figured it was time to stop stalling. Curly took a deep breath and let it out slowly before forcing himself to make and keep eye contact with Rose. "Sula really has been helping me with Magical Defense. For me, with my magic, that means… flipping it." Pausing, he tried to gauge Rose's reaction, to see if she connected the dots on her own because he really didn't want to say it. What they'd been trying to do, what they had accomplished, and how Sula had almost died in the process.

* * *

When his fingers caressed the back of her hands it sent warm tingles up her arms and down her spine. That... had never happened before. Just for half a second Rose forgot what they were talking about. And then he reminded her.

"Flipping?" she echoed, her eyebrows scrunching up as she tried to process what he was saying. Flipping as in, flipping on its head? As in reversing? "You mean..." Realisation hit her like a hammer and her hands jumped out of his as she physically recoiled from him. "She's been teaching you how to use your magic  _to hurt_?"

Everything spiralled. Rose looked at Curly, and for a moment it felt like she was staring at a stranger. "Do Larry and Moe know about this?" Stupid question. "Of course they don't, or they would have talked sense into you!" A swirl of emotions raged inside her, and she wasn't sure which was strongest. Part of her was mad at him. A large part. "So not only did you keep this a secret, but you willingly participated? You tried to turn yourself into some kind of... some kind of  _living weapon_? Why?!"

She had no answer for that, but the gears in her head turned at lightning speed, taking stock of the situation, compartmentalising and deducting, coming up with logical conclusions.

**Number one:** Her mind immediately rejected the previous notion that she was looking at a stranger. She was looking at  _Curly_ , and she knew who he was. Okay, maybe she hadn't known him for eight years, but eight months had been enough.

**Number two:** He was pale and shaking, and whatever had happened had to do with this 'power flip'. Therefore, he had succeeded in hurting someone right now. And he felt terrible about it.

Rose's expression softened. "That's what happened, isn't it. You hurt someone." And the fact was killing him. Of course it was. Could he not foresee that? Even if he did manage to flip his magic, it wasn't in his nature do so. He would regret using it, so why had he even attempted to?

**Number three:**  He was an idiot, and he made a stupid choice. But he was  _her_ idiot.

He was in shock and on the verge of a breakdown, and she had to think of that first. Whatever he'd done was done, and what she needed to do now was pick up the pieces. "Are they okay?" She reached for his hands again and squeezed them gently. "Are you?"

* * *

So much for distractions. He should have known better than to think that Rose would fall for that conversational trap.

Her quick understanding of what he meant was gratifying in the fact that he wouldn't have to explain everything now. The way she recoiled from him was anything but, however. It made Curly shrink back into himself, hands clenching on his knees. The way she looked at him, it reaffirmed the way he felt—that he had made himself into a monster, that he didn't recognize himself anymore. That he had done something unforgivable. And she hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet. He couldn't look at her as she questioned him, her tone pricking at him.

But when she said it, guessed it, figured out what had happened, her tone wasn't sharp—it was soft, almost gentle, full of sadness. That was almost worse. Until she took his hands and asked him if he was okay. Like he deserved the sympathy when he had done something so awful.

Instead of her face, Curly stared at Rose's hands, not sure he could look her in the eye without breaking down. "Sula is going to be okay. No thanks to me," he said. "I almost killed her." Not just hurt her. If he had realized what was happening even a few seconds later, it might have been too late. He could have killed her. The fact that he came so close to doing so… He bowed his head, his face twisted into a grimace as he fought back tears.

* * *

It almost hurt, seeing Curly like this.

Rose studied him, her hands still holding his. He seemed so... defeated. So sad. She'd never seen him like this before. The gears in her mind turned once more, this time slower, more deliberately. Part of a solution was already forming in her mind, but she was hesitant to implement it. The root of the problem was clear – he'd decided, for whatever reason, that he needed to use his magic to hurt. Rose didn't know what Ursula or the Fairy Godmother had told him, or if he'd arrived at this conclusion on his own, but they were wrong. All of this was wrong! And if there was one thing Rose was sure of, it was that Curly would never agree to it, not unless he thought it was the only option. Not unless he felt he had no choice.

If she could just tell him, show him that he had a choice, he would see that it didn't have to be this way... Her blood ran cold. It was hard to talk about, to relive that night, but... maybe, just maybe, it might show him that he doesn't have it so bad.

"Curly... you know that I'm afraid of water... but I've never told you why." Her eyes fell to their hands, and she squeezed his lightly. "I've... never told anyone, actually. No one knows the reason. Not my parents, not Rogers... no one. But I think it's time you did."

She spoke quietly, in a measured, even tone. "When I was six years old, I ran away from home. My parents were always overprotective, you see, and I had never, ever left the castle grounds. Rogers would panic if I was out of sight for too long, and I, being a silly child, thought I should be free to do whatever I wanted. So I... I snuck out one night. Just me, and a few books bundled in a bedsheet." Rose shook her head, smiling. How could this have ever sounded like a solid plan, even to a kid, was baffling.

"The guard was talking with a kitchen maid, so I was probably extremely lucky that night. I slipped past him through the servant exit and... just headed into the woods. I remember feeling so happy to finally be free, unafraid at all from the dark and the woods, I remember laughing and running... And then I came across a creek." The princess swallowed hard. "I bent down to look at the rushing water and saw my own reflection. I reached down to touch it, for no reason at all, and that's when I… I experienced my very first transformation." Her eyes moved back to Curly. "I'm cursed, Curly. If I touch water at night, I turn into a swan. I have no control over it, and it lasts until morning.

She paused to let that sink in for a second before continuing. "That night, it was triggered for the very first time. I had no idea what was happening, I panicked, stared honking, and... I was found." Rose stared unseeingly at their hands again. "There were these two boys, you see, from the village. They were there to catch fireflies, but instead... they found a duckling. I couldn't even walk on those flippers, and frantically flapping my arms—my  _wings_ —did nothing to balance me. They captured me so easily... they weren't even holding me that tightly, but no matter how much I struggled, I couldn't get free. I wanted desperately to be able to talk to them, tell them to let me go, but all I could do was hiss. I felt so... so utterly helpless. Like I was bound and gagged." Rose could feel her throat tighten, but bit it all back. She took a breath to help contain her emotions, then continued evenly.

"They played with me for a while. You know how kids are – they can be cruel sometimes without even meaning to. I can't remember exactly what they did to me, but it involved sticks and poking, trying to get me to fly..." Rose shook her head. "Anyway. They thought they ought to put me somewhere with water overnight, but wanted to keep me a secret from their parents, so they... dropped me in the old well. A ten-foot drop into freezing water, with only the pale moonlight shining from far above. I couldn't get out. I couldn't call for help. I couldn't even cry. No arms, no voice... no escape. I had to stay in there all night, wet and cold and... and hopeless. That is why I hate water. Because it triggers this curse, because it makes me vulnerable, weak, helpless. In that state, I am completely at other people's mercy. I hate being a swan, Curly, I hate feeling water on my skin, and you know what I can do about it?  _Absolutely nothing_." A shiver ran down her spine, and she involuntarily squeezed his hands tighter.

When she was sure she could keep a straight face, Rose looked Curly in the eyes again. "But it's not like that with you. You have something that I don't, Curly, something I've never had. Choice. Your power is not a curse, it's a  _gift_. Healing, helping others, that's who you are. You don't know how lucky you are to have this ability. I would give anything to be like you, to be able to abort that awful magic at will, but I can't. You  _can_." Her eyes wandered down to their connected hands. "If you don't want to hurt people – just don't. Whatever made you feel like you need to, it's wrong. You're... enough. Even without offensive magic, you've always been enough. I know what I'm saying is not much, but it's…" She paused, looking for the right word. "It's real."

* * *

Listening to Rose's story, Curly's gut twisted. He'd known about the curse, though he had yet to tell Rose that he knew, for months. But it was one thing to read an impersonal descriptor in her school file— ** _Cursed:_** _turns into a swan if she touches water in the moonlight. Cannot be controlled and once triggered lasts until morning_ —and something else entirely to hear this story from Rose. Pain for her made his chest ache and he wished there was some way to protect Rose from that memory, wrap her up in warmth and happiness so she would never feel the fear of it again. In a brief flight of fancy, he imagined travelling back in time and plucking the swan Rose away from the two boys, saving her from the trauma of thoughtless childhood cruelty. Or just keeping her from touching the water at all.

But the past was the past and he could no more change Rose's first transformation than he could change what he had done. He could only squeeze her hands, resolving to do what he could to ease that fear in the future, and listen.

_Whatever made you feel like you need to, it's wrong._  The Fairy Godmother had been the one to prompt him to take Magical Defense, putting him on this path. He hadn't even considered it, seeing no reason to take a class that, despite its name, taught what amounted to offensive magic—his ability was  _healing_ , it wasn't offensive. He couldn't  _fight_ with it. But when the FG had pushed, framing it as a way to protect his friends, Curran had thought,  _why not?_  Even then, he hadn't taken the class seriously until after Halloween. He, Larry and Moe had survived just fine without him having an offensive magic ability. Heck, Larry  _had_ an offensive magic ability and  _he_ wasn't taking the class. But when he'd been able to do nothing to help his friends against the giant spider, and then again down in the catacombs, Curly had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he should be trying harder. Thus the lessons with Sula had begun.

_And just look how they turned out._  He turned his mind's eye to his magic, to the little speck of blackness that now sat at its center, and shuddered. He never wanted to touch that dark seed, never wanted to feel it draining the life from another person again. Turning his attention to the brilliant light that was the rest of his power, a sense of resolve formed and solidified with Rose's words. She was right—he didn't have to use that aspect of his gift. He didn't have to hurt people. He could choose.

Focusing on Rose, the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly—nowhere near his usual smile, but something at least. "You're really smart, you know?  _Way_ smarter than I've been about this whole thing."

* * *

Seeing that half smile, as faint as it was, made Rose forget all about that cold night over a decade ago. "That's why you have me," she said softly, returning the smile. "To tell you when you're being an idiot. You're not trying to change your magic, you're trying to change  _yourself_ , and… I just don't understand. Why would you do that?" Her hand rose, almost of its own accord, and tried to fix the mess atop his head, her fingers combing gently through the tresses that stuck this way and that. "You are  _good_. You are always willing to leap to someone's help, even if you don't know them; you are open, and funny, and you can get people to relax around you. You are like sunshine: warm, and real, and bright, and that's exactly why I..."  _That's exactly why I love you._

**_I love you._ **

The realisation hit Rose will all the force of reaching into one's pocket to find a bit of spare change they'd forgotten was there. It was like she'd been looking at those pictures with the black and white shapes, seeing only the black silhouette, and now... Nothing had really changed. She was still looking at Curly, the same familiar features and warm hazel eyes, but her perception had subtly shifted, and suddenly all she could see was the white part of the picture.

It was a little funny, really. She'd fallen in love with Curly without even knowing what love  _is_.

Suddenly, she realised that her hand has somehow slipped to his face, a gesture that was beyond inappropriate and was probably making him uncomfortable. Trying her best to wipe the love-struck look from her face, she quickly retracted her hand and said, "Oh, sorry. I shouldn't have touched you like this without permission, I'll... I just wasn't thinking." Her eyes fell to her lap, unable to meet his. He was sad and needed reassurance right now. If only she could stop feeling so happy...

"It's okay to want to do more," she muttered at their hands, trying to distract him from the embarrassing invasion of his space she'd just committed. The fact that they were still holding hands was distracting enough for her. "I felt just like that when I decided to work on my archery for more than just ceremonial purposes. But Curly... It's not like you're defenceless, like me. I've seen you single-handedly take down four guys in less than a minute." She managed a small smile at that memory. "And that was without a weapon. I shudder to see you wielding a frying pan."

* * *

He huffed at Rose's words. "I probably need an idiot meter. Or two." Literally. Besides Rose, Larry tended to talk him out of his less stellar ideas.

As her fingers gently tugged his hair back into some sort of order, something in Curran's chest eased. He couldn't undo what he had done, but he could—he would—resolve never to do it again. Rose thought he was still good. There was that speck of dark magic in his soul now, but there was still so much light—he didn't have to use that darkness. And he wouldn't.

Smiling back at her as she trailed off, it took a second for him to realize that she wasn't going to finish her sentence. Rose just kind of kept staring at him, a look he didn't recognize on her face, as her hand slipped from his hair to cup his cheek. Something about the way she looked at him kept him from speaking, his mouth feeling dry, while a blush crept up his neck.

"It's, um, it's fine," he said when she seemed to snap out of it, his cheeks hot. He didn't understand what had just happened, but was strangely glad she didn't pulled away entirely, her hands still warm, comforting, in his.

A grin pulled his lips up. "I'll have to show you some time." He looked down at their hands, rubbed his thumbs along where they touched her skin, and lifted his gaze back to Rose's. "I think… I'm gonna drop the class. I don't want to… ever touch that magic again." The smile was easier now. "I'll stick to frying pans. And healing people."

* * *

"Sounds good to me," Rose said, smiling. When he did that again, caressed the backs of her hands, it sent those warm tingles all over her, but at least she knew what this was now. It was strange how something this simple could make her feel so happy. She'd heard the expression 'falling for someone', but that wasn't how this felt. It felt like flying.

Rose stood up, pulling him with her. "That's enough brooding out of you, I think. It doesn't suit you. Let's do something fun." A thought prickled at the back of her mind that she didn't want to be seen in those clothes, but she ignored it. Curly was a priority. What would make him happy? "How about we go to the kitchen? You can make me banana muffins and show me some of those frying pan moves?"

* * *

Laughing, Curly let Rose pull him up. "That sounds good to me too." Maybe she would go with him to check on Sula later; they could bring her muffins. If Sula was still as giggly as she was when he left the infirmary, Rose might even get a kick out of the visit. Feeling lighter than he had, perhaps, in months, he laced his fingers with hers and followed her to the kitchens.


	27. Chapter 27

"Come back again!" called the perky blonde behind the counter, waving after the customer. The little bell above the door chimed as the door closed behind him, and the friendly smile slipped from her face.

It hadn't been a good day, sales-wise. If she'd had a manager she might have gotten scolded, but thankfully being her own boss had its perks. After making sure all the jewels were gleaming behind their glass displays and everything was in order, the blonde stepped outside in the darkening street and locked the shop. She raised her hands to put up the usual wards, when a familiar voice made her stop.

"Finishing early today? I'm just in time then! How about that second date?"

She turned to face the speaker, smirking. The lad wasn't bad looking. That dark hair, that confident grin… it reminded her of  _him_. In the dim light of the streetlights, if she sort of squinted, this guy almost seemed like…

"I told you," the girl said, rolling her eyes playfully, "that it was a one-time thing."

"Come on," he insisted, drawing her into his arms. "We had fun, didn't we?"

"Oh, we did," she said, still smirking. "But, honey, I don't eat the same meal twice."

He leaned down and kissed her neck. "That's because you haven't tasted me twice."

The girl sighed in content, leaning back to give him more room. Her fingers ran through his hair, and just for a moment she could imagine that it was  _him_  kissing her again,  _his_  arms around her. A flame ran through her whole body, setting it ablaze. Memories of that night flooded her mind, as they had many times before, and she could almost hear that music again, feel the skirts of her gown brush against the marble floor as they danced.

He nibbled at her neck and she signed once more, her eyes fluttering open and falling on their reflection in her shop's windows.

A blonde woman in the arms of a dark-haired man.

Her blood ran cold. Why was it that she could only get what she wanted as someone else? Why did men just fall on their knees in front of blondes?!

Suddenly angry, she pushed him away. "I have somewhere I need to be."

He tried to grab her hand, but with a flick of her wrist, he was frozen in a whirl of black feathers. His still form rose in the air, morphing and shrinking, until she was looking at a fat, pink pig. Her fingers closed into a fist, and the animal fell to the ground, squealing up a storm. The woman's wrist twisted, and the pig disappeared in another swirl of feathers.

She turned around and started walking, her heels clicking against the pavement.

The streets of Andover City were empty and dark, and as she passed in the shadows between two street lamps, Odile Von Rothbart emerged a brunette.

Maybe it was foolish to shed the disguise, maybe it was dangerous, but after this she needed to feel like herself again. Her hand reached up to the tie in her hair and pulled it out, letting the black tresses fall in waves over her shoulders. Blondes always got everything! All those vapid, shallow women had to do was bat their eyelashes and somehow a whole horde of men came riding to defend them! And why? What did Odette have that she didn't?!

_"You're not her. You can never be her."_

Odile wanted to set something on fire. When she saw Siegfried again, she would make him eat those words. Or better yes, she would make him eat Odette's heart, served with honey and garlic. Then she would kill him, slowly, piece by piece, so that he knew how it felt to be torn apart by someone, like he'd torn off her father's wings. Oh, she would have her revenge… on both of them.

A flapping of wings above made her stop and look up. The dark form of her raven descended from the skies, and she held out her hand for it. As soon as its clawed feet landed on her forearm, Odile reached inside the bird's mind.

She saw Andover Academy rise against the clear blue skies, reverberating with the Fairy Godmother's magic, heard the chattering and laughter of teenagers heading to the dining hall for lunch. She circled up around the highest tower, hoping to glean a weak spot, a hole in the wards, an entrance. As always, there was none. The air was positively charged with power, and it would no doubt alert the entire staff should she try to go after the girl the old fashioned way… Then, suddenly, the tower shook. She turned in the air, and through a crumbling window she saw a girl and a boy, arguing. The boy was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, his brow gleaming with sweat. She'd seen him before.  _The one that had made the wish_. Because of him, her prey had escaped her! She perched on the windowsill.

The argument between them unfolded until the girl weaved an illusion into his mind. The boy's stare went blank as she whispered in his ear, enforcing the spell. After a minute his hands suddenly shot forward and grabbed her, magic humming in the air. The life started draining out of her as her skin withered and her hair turned white. Odile watched, fascinated and horrified, as the boy came to his senses. This much power… from the one she'd deemed the least dangerous. A sudden squawk had her recoil from the window, as an angry puffin flew at her, chasing her away.

 _Callum_ , she thought with gritted teeth, letting the vision ebb from her consciousness.

The raven took flight again, leaving Odile alone back on the dark streets of the city. She continued the brisk walk to her apartment, thinking about this new development.

First the French boy and his blasted loyalty. The only thing she'd managed to retrieve from the ruins of Lars' house was his cane, infused with some magic by his wife so long ago. Why was he always meddling when he wasn't supposed to? If she was ever going to get Siegfried's daughter, she might need to take care of him first…

Then that one with his gadgets, who had somehow made it possible for them to escape after her raven conveniently tampered with the wards on the entrance of that crazy old coot's lab. She'd hoped at the very least that they'd starve in there, or get themselves killed with one of those runaway inventions; God knows she and Callum almost did when they were his aides.

But now… now this. The one she'd thought the most harmless, the healer, was a deadly weapon. When she made her way inside the school again she'd need to be mindful of this, thread carefully around him. They were all too unpredictable, always around to save that useless girl whenever she was in danger. Odile had to get rid of them.

She entered her apartment building and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. The key clicked in the lock as she turned it, and she walked inside her apartment. She hadn't done too badly for herself. It was nearly four months now that Odile had been in hiding, but for someone like her finding a suitable life to steal wasn't too hard. She could, if she wanted to, continue to live as Greta the Jewellery Girl. Or she could get a new life, somewhere far away from here, far away from that girl with her blue eyes and blonde hair. She was pathetic, just like her mother, just like that oh-so-innocent and pure Odette.

A ball of fire appeared above the sorceress' palm, and Odile threw it into the fireplace. The girl was a spitting image of Odette, and yet,  _and yet_ , she was also so clearly  _his_. The more of that stupid journal she read, the more she watched the girl through her raven, the more obvious it was. That exact same sharp mind, the archery, the little wrinkle between her eyebrows when she thought hard, or the curve of her mouth when she smiled. The perfect blend of what Odile loathed and loved. She couldn't let this go. She had to destroy this girl, this daughter, because the mere fact that she existed was  _unacceptable_.

Odile threw another spell at a glittering jar full of sapphires atop the mantle and shattered it.

She needed a new play. She'd tried luring the girl to all sorts of dangers, but those boys were always with her. If she were to erase her, Odile had to get rid of her protectors. But how? How to take them out of the equation without literally taking them out?

Odile sank in her chair, staring moodily into the fire. For a second a ghost of a smile crossed her lips as she remembered the countless times she'd found her father in the exact same position. Oh how she'd teased him then, for being so bad at wooing that the vapid bimbo had chosen a lake instead of their castle. He couldn't even turn her into something more befitting, like a frog. It had to be a bloody swan. If, Odile thought, her father  _had_  turned her into a frog, maybe Siegfried would have shot that arrow through her that first night, and everything would have been different. Maybe, if he'd never met Odette, if he hadn't laid eyes on that perfect skin and that golden hair, Siegfried would see that she, Odile, was so much better.

Even when she hated him, she still loved him. The thought filled her with rage once again, and the flames inside the fireplace burst and crackled. And then, suddenly, an idea struck.

But to implement it… she needed allies. Someone on the inside that could carry out her bidding without alerting the Fairy Godmother. Someone that would do what she told them to, no questions asked. And she had to plot this thoroughly, had to do this without causing alarms to ring and setting Callum on her trail.

Odile smiled, relaxing back into her chair. It would take time, but that was fine. She could wait. After all, revenge was a dish best served cold.


	28. Chapter 28

They were playing classical music again. King William chewed on his cod fillet thoughtfully, wondering how they could eat every meal with this cacophony in the background.

"So, how is your dog, Dad?" Odette asked, slowly sipping her wine.

"Oh, she's fine," Will replied dryly. "Melissa only got an arrow in the leg while trying to help your great hunter of a husband hit something, could happen to anyone." So he was a bit bitter, he had the right to be. Melissa was his best duck hunter.

"How long are you going to hold this over me?" Siegfried asked with a sigh. "I apologised, what else must I do? It wasn't like I aimed at your hound."

"Oh of course, that makes it aaaall better," Will drawled, cutting up more of the fillet. "If you didn't mean to, you can shoot whomever you want! You are the King, after all."

Odette sighed. "Dad…"

"It was a hunt, William, accidents happen," Siegfried countered tiredly.

"Oh, well, I'm sure the next person you shoot will take great solace in knowing that," Will said, bringing the fish to his mouth.

"You can't seriously expect me to send a  _dog_  a Get Well card," his-son-in law exclaimed when a quiet cough sounded over his right shoulder. He turned, seeing Rogers there with a letter in his hand.

"This just arrived, Your Majesty."

Siegfried took the envelope and opened it. "Thank you, Rogers." A quick glance at the piece of paper inside, and the King folded it once more, leaving it on the table.

"What is it?" Odette asked.

"A letter from Andover," Siegfried replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Will raised his eyes from the plate, looking at his son-in-law expectantly. "And…?" he prompted when Siegfried didn't continue.

"It's nothing to be worried about," the King replied nonchalantly.

"If it has to do with my granddaughter, I would like to decide that for myself," Will insisted.

Siegfried sighed again. "It's an invitation, if you really must know. The school is holding a Father-Daughter dance, and the Fairy Godmother is letting the parents know."

"Ah," Will said, his dark mood clearing somewhat. "A dance that is not happening in this very castle! I think that'll be good for her. Even if she has to dance with  _you_  and not boys her age."

Will was of the firm opinion that Siegfried was the main reason Rose was the way she was. Normal girls her age worried about their next date, and she worried about Oloria's political climate. Contrary to what one might think, the balls her parents threw only made things worse, as they kept a close eye on everything she did and everyone she talked to, making something that was supposed to loosen her up only tighten her sense of propriety. He hadn't seen Rose since she left for the Academy, but he had insisted on keeping up a correspondence, and had noticed with much satisfaction that her writing style seemed to become less and less formal with each reply.

It filled him with pride to know that, away from all the pressure and the suffocating environment of the castle, she was actually coming out of her shell and becoming her own person, not who her parents wanted her to be. She enjoyed her lessons, met with new people, and most importantly – had made friends. Will smiled into his goblet, thinking about how she couldn't seem to stop talking about three young men in particular, with whom she had apparently formed some sort of bond while almost getting killed by a giant spider.

"Oh, I can't go," Siegfried said as if stating an obvious fact.

Will's hand froze halfway to his mouth. The old king's clear, blue eyes turned to his son-in-law. "What do you mean 'you can't go'?"

Siegfried put his utensils down as well and held his gaze. "I have a country to run, William. You can't really expect me to up and leave everything for a silly dance."

"I expect you to do so for your daughter," Will corrected him. "And I do believe the kingdom can survive one day without your guiding hand."

"A lot can happen in a day; whole empires have fallen in mere hours. Rose will be perfectly fine. She was never too keen on dancing to begin with."

"As always, you are astoundingly good at missing the point," Will sighed. "This is about you showing her that you care."

"Rose knows I care about her," Siegfried said, rolling his eyes and returning to his meal. "She doesn't need a dance to clue her in."

"But it wouldn't hurt to remind her."

"This is not your call to make," Siegfried said pointedly. "Perhaps things were easier when you were King, but the situation is very delicate right now. The line of succession ends with Rose, and with her eighteenth birthday fast approaching, the lords are beginning to scheme. Half of them want both me and her assassinated, and the other half are vying for her hand. If I'm not careful, I might lose the distinction."

"So… you're still thinking of arranging her a match?" Will asked in a quiet tone, staring at him intently.

"Rogers keeps a file with potential suitors," Siegfried admitted. "I've taken painstaking care in making sure all of the men in it have an honest character."

" _An honest character?_ " Will exclaimed. "How about having Rose's favour? Does she get no say?"

" _Of course_  she gets a say—"

"From the clowns  _you've_  hand-picked!"

"No one will force her into anything, but she knows how important securing the line of succession is, and—"

"Oh no, you wouldn't force her, only pressure and guilt her into it!"

Will threw his napkin onto the table and rose to his feet. Odette was looking nervously from her husband to her father, but Siegfried held his gaze once again, firm and unyielding.

"You would sell your own daughter to the highest bidder?" Will spat at him. "Is that what you think I should have done with mine? Told her to marry whomever  _I_  saw fit?"

"Things are different now," Siegfried replied, his voice strained. "I would never force her hand, but we no longer have the luxury to wait for her to meet the right guy. If something happens to her before the bloodline is secure, Oloria will fall into a civil war. I am only trying to prevent bloodshed, and she knows this."

Will was so angry it took all his self-control to keep from unleashing a wave of curses at his daughter and her husband. "Have a nice dinner," he said instead, unable to completely do away with the heat in his voice, then marched right out of the Dining Hall.

* * *

-oOo-

_I think I'm starting to get the hang of this_ , Rose thought with smug satisfaction, noticing how much nimbler her fingers had become with a keyboard. She had been in the middle of typing out an e-mail to Moe when she heard three firm knocks on her door. Her eyes turned in its direction. According to the message she'd just gotten from the wish-granter, the Stooges were about to play some Mario Kart together. Who else would be visiting her in the evening?

Rose approached the door wearily and opened it just a bit, only to recoil in surprise at the sight of her grandfather's grin.

"Surprise!" Grandpa Will said, making a wide, sweeping gesture with his arms.

"Grandpa," Rose managed, opening the door wider. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take my granddaughter to a certain dance." The old King glanced down at his brown suit to accentuate his point. "I've been told it starts at eight?"

Rose blinked at him a few times, trying to process what her eyes were seeing. "Erm… yes. But Dad said he couldn't make it."

Grandpa Will waved dismissively. "Bah, what do we need him for? You're  _a_  daughter and I'm  _a_  father. Nowhere does it say we need to be  _each other's_. Now go get ready."

"Ah… but..." Rose didn't know what to say. This was definitely unexpected, and she was too surprised to think of a proper reply. She hadn't been exactly itching to go to this dance, nor was she disappointed when her father turned it down. But her grandfather had come all this way… it seemed downright rude to tell him no. Rose cleared her throat. "I'll hurry." Then she turned around and walked into her dorm, opening the dresser in search of a proper dress.

Grandpa Will walked in after her, looking around curiously. He smiled coyly when he glanced at the still unsent e-mail and sank into her light-blue armchair, reaching for one of her books, while Rose took a long lilac dress and her make-up bag into the bathroom. It had only been roughly ten minutes when she emerged again, already dressed, her hair styled in a wavy ponytail.

"That really was quick," Grandpa Will noted, standing up and putting the book down. "You look lovely, as always."

"Thank you," Rose said stiffly, then reached for her keys and stuffed them and her phone in a small beaded bag. "Shall we go?"

Grandpa Will smiled. "We shall," he said with a small bow and offered her his arm.

* * *

-O-

The dance was mostly what Rose had expected it to be. Muted light, party decorations, teacher supervision. Couples swirled about on the dance floor, most of which Rose didn't recognise. Truth be told, she wasn't very social outside of her friend circle, and since this dance was for the girls of the Academy and their fathers, the sheer number of familiar faces alone was greatly diminished. At one point she spotted Cat, laughing in the arms of an older gentleman, which Rose presumed to be King Philip. The other princess saw her too and waved cheerfully, to which Rose responded with a small smile and a wave of her own.

"And who is that young lady?" Grandpa Will asked when the two of them began swaying with the music as well.

"That's Cat," Rose replied, her eyes still following her friend's figure. "And that must be her father." She had mentioned Cat in her letters, but had tactfully left out the bits about her being adopted.

"See any other… friends?" Grandpa Will asked hopefully.

Rose cast a look around. "No. I'm not really friends with any of the other girls, but I don't see anyone I recognise."

Grandpa Will sighed dramatically. "So I will never get to meet these friends of yours?"

"Do you mean Curly, Larry and Moe? Is that why you came for this dance, you were curious to see what they were like?"

The exaggeratedly sad expression disappeared from the old King's face, and when he spoke again there wasn't even a hint of a joke in his voice. "I came to see  _you_ , Rose. I couldn't come for Christmas, and the last time I saw you I was sending you off to the Academy."

Rose frowned slightly, struggling to understand. "But I have written to you all this time. What difference does it make if you physically see me?"

A certain kind of sadness reflected in her grandfather's eyes, and Rose felt a familiar pang somewhere in the pit of her stomach, as if she had disappointed him again somehow. It was a vibe she often got from him, like she failed once again to meet some unknown standard.

"In some ways I think you've changed a lot since you came here, Rose. And yet in others… you're still the same."

Rose looked away. She did think she had changed, but would her grandfather approve? Having friends had made her less formal to an extent, had helped her relax a little and find out who she was when she didn't have a title after her name. But… back home, would this be seen as positive? Back where she was a Princess first and Rose second, would her family not frown upon this new informality? Surely for a princess to act this way was not acceptable?

"Maybe I have changed," she said. Then her eyes rose to meet his imploringly. "But would that be… would it be so bad?"

For a second, her grandfather was stumped, but his surprised expression soon gave way to a gentle smile. "No, I don't think it would be bad. For nearly seventeen years I've been trying to spark in you the desire to do just that."

Now it was her turn to stiffen with surprise. She knew he had been trying to accomplish something with her, but it had always been a mystery.

"And it never occurred to you to just be honest with me instead of keeping me guessing all that time?" she deadpanned without thinking. By the time she realised that she had just been completely insolent with her own grandfather, he was laughing heartily.

"I guess I'm just not a very smart person!" he replied, amusement ringing clear in his voice. "Why, Rose, I never knew you had such a sharp tongue!"

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed in panic.

"Don't apologise," Grandpa Will said quickly. "You don't have to be formal with me all the time, I'm your grandfather, not a visiting Duke. I loved that comeback! Which one of your friends taught you to be this sarcastic?"

"Erm… it was Larry, I think," she replied, coming back to her senses. "His humour is very dry and sarcastic… I think he might've rubbed off on me."

"Well, in that case hang around him more often!" Grandpa Will said immediately. "I'd love to hear some more gems like that."

Rose could feel her face flushing. For the first time ever, she felt flattered by one of her grandfather's many, many compliments. "Or perhaps you should meet him. He certainly has no shortage of wisecracks."

He seemed to rather like the idea. "Invite him to Oloria! In fact, invite all of them! Larry was the bookish one, right? Your dad could use a few of those jokes to get him down to human level."

"Oh, I don't think Larry would ever be this disrespectful to a foreign King," Rose said. "He's actually very well-mannered." Then she added under her breath, "Curly, on the other hand, has no sense of propriety; I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he dropped a bomb like that."

"Ah, the infamous Curly." Grandpa Will smiled knowingly. "And when do I get to meet him?"

Rose couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. "Infamous? Did he really come across this way in my letters?"

"Perhaps," Grandpa Will said. "He certainly sounds… interesting." Smiling, he added, "He's had an interesting effect on you."

Rose looked away. Since she had realised her true feelings for him, she'd consciously tried not to think about Curly unless it was in a strictly platonic context. The trouble with that was… that it was  _hard_. He would smile at her in class, and she would feel a tiny sun dawn inside her. He would accidentally brush his elbow against hers, and her whole body would start tingling. He would wave at her across the hall, and her heart would start beating on double time, as if eager to leap out of her chest and straight into his arms.

Hiding it became harder and harder every day.

Her grandfather stared at her silently. "You love him, don't you?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his. "Wha—where did that—"

"You think you have everybody fooled," Grandpa Will said. "But you can't fool me, honey. I've known you too long and too well. That persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire, and no matter how hard you try to deny it, I can tell you care about him. Admit that you love him — and I know that you do. Despite all your efforts to never let another heart touch yours."

Rose's eyes moved to the floor again. "Of course I love him," she said quietly. "But what would admitting it accomplish?"

To her surprise, her grandfather smiled. "I thought so," he muttered to himself. "Then tell him."

Now it was her turn to smile, though there was a cold sadness nestled in her chest. "I don't think that is wise. He doesn't feel the same way."

"A boy, not loving my granddaughter? That's preposterous!" Grandpa Will said, and despite everything, Rose had to hold back a chuckle. He smiled kindly as he added, "You'll never know unless you ask."

Rose shook her head. "I don't need to ask. Curly cares about me, I have no doubts about that, but he cares about everyone. I'm too stiff and awkward and cold and formal... He deserves someone better, someone happier. Someone warm, like him."

Fingers curled under her chin and gently lifted it. "You're selling yourself short, Rose. You have grown into a wonderful young woman, and he would have to be daft not to see that," Grandpa Will said softly.

"I think," she said, barely above a whisper, "that he knows." If it was so obvious to half the school, surely it was obvious to him. And he hadn't said anything, which meant that there was nothing to say. "If he does feel this way about someone, it's another girl. And, Grandpa, if she makes him happy… I want him to be with her."

Even though she tried to block the thoughts from her mind, sometimes it was impossible. But instead of imagining him kissing Ursula in a dark attic, Rose tried to picture him smiling at her, happy. That mental image made the whole idea a lot more bearable, and as long as she focused on that, she could want it to be real.

Grandpa Will's hand moved to caress her cheek. "If that boy is fool enough to choose her over you… then he is blind."

Rose cracked the tiniest of smiles. "Perhaps I should look into getting him a seeing-eye dog. He'd love a Golden Retriever."

Grandpa Will laughed at that, drawing her into a hug. Rose smiled sadly in his shoulder as they continued to sway with the music.

It was liberating, in a way, to say that she loved him outloud. The words had been clawing their way up so often, it had taken real effort on her part to keep them from casually slipping out. She couldn't— _wouldn't_ —deny it anymore, but saying it would only make him feel guilty.

Rose never lied, but she could keep a secret. And this one she would safely tuck away in her heart, closely guarded, even if everyone could see it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How to Talk Love With Your Kid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146671) by [Gallons_of_the_Stuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallons_of_the_Stuff/pseuds/Gallons_of_the_Stuff)
  * [A Taste of the Muggle World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767238) by [RedButterfly33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedButterfly33/pseuds/RedButterfly33)
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